


In My Dark Times

by AngelOfLorien



Series: Daryl & Liv [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Bikers, Daryl Dixon Being an Asshole, Daryl Dixon Smut, Dom Daryl Dixon, Drug Dealing, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, I Don't Even Know, Language, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Mechanic Daryl Dixon, Merle Dixon Being an Asshole, Oral Sex, Sassy, Shane Walsh Being an Asshole, Smut, Sweet Daryl Dixon, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 04:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfLorien/pseuds/AngelOfLorien
Summary: Liv tries to control every aspect of her life according to what she thinks people want for her. When a regular at her family's tavern piques her interest with his quiet ways and underlying intensity, she throws caution to the wind and hands him the reins.





	1. Chapter 1

_This ain't the right time for you to fall in love with me_

_Baby I'm just being honest_

Liv O’Neill wiped the top of the bar with a white cotton cloth and sneaked another glance at Daryl. He was nice enough, she supposed. Attractive in a rough and unpolished kinda way, like he didn’t feel the need to impress anybody. Not much of a talker, but he had manners and he never patted her ass like a lot of the regulars did, so that brought him up in her estimation. Seemed to have an edge just below the surface, and that intrigued her.

Daryl had been in pretty much every night for three months and rarely had more than a few beers. Tonight, though, he’d pulled a bottle of Wild Turkey, dropped some cash on the bar, and retreated to the dark, smoky corner as far away from the rest of the patrons as possible.

She tossed her bangs out of her eyes and peeked toward his corner again.

“For Chrissakes, Liv. Just go talk to him.”

She straightened and pinned her brother Scotty with a fierce scowl. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“Why don’t you stop being such a damn sissy and quit eye-stalkin’ my customers?” Scotty pulled a Blue Moon from the draught. “It ain’t like you never talked to him before.”

Liv sniffed and turned back to bussing the bar. She’d talked to Daryl plenty. Even flirted some. Or as best she knew how, anyway. He’d been nice about it, but not really receptive. “Well obviously he’s in a mood. Doesn’t really look like he’d welcome company.” She checked her watch. “Besides, I gotta head out. I’ve got to go to the Greene farm tomorrow and help the old man deliver a foal.”

“It’s not even midnight yet,” Scotty said. “The hell am I payin’ you for if you don’t even work a full shift?”

“You don’t pay me most of the time. I help out so I can have a clear conscience when Mama calls and asks if I’m helping take care of you.” She untied her apron, tucked it under the counter, and reached up to pat his cheek. “Her sweet widdle baby boy.”

“Quit it,” he grumbled, leaning away. “Go on, then.”

She lifted the partition and rounded the bar, noting with a flare of disappointment that Daryl had vacated his table. “See you tomorrow.”

The air was thick with humidity when she pushed open the side door that led to the gravel parking lot. The gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she headed home. Her house was across the street, a cute little two-story with gingerbread eaves and a wraparound porch. It had been her parents’ house before they moved to Florida, and since Scotty was perfectly content living in the apartment on top of the tavern, the house had been gifted to her.

A muttered curse caught her attention and she peered toward the sound through the dimness offered by the solitary street light. “Daryl?”

He sat in the lot, tinkering with his motorcycle. At her voice, his head jerked up and he shook dark hair out of his eyes. “What’re you doing sneaking around like that?” He pushed himself to his feet, swaying as he pulled a red rag out of his back pocket and wiped his hands.

“Having trouble with your bike?”

Instead of answering, he raked his gaze over her and staggered back a step. She instinctively reached out a hand to steady him, hooking a finger in the pocket of his leather vest.

“Why don’t you come on back inside and I’ll call you a cab?”

“I’m a’ight.”

“You can even stand up straight,” she said, frowning. “You definitely ain’t driving right now.”

His blue eyes met hers, challenge burning bright. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

She lifted her chin. She’d been working in the tavern since she’d been barely more than a kid and had dealt with her fair share of drunks. “Me.”

He scoffed at that, and then turned back to his motorcycle. He was searching his side bags for something, not paying Liv any mind at all. She leaned over and quietly palmed the key from the ignition, then tucked it in the pocket of her shorts as she backed away.

“Fine. Go on, then, and get yourself turned into a big ol’ highway grease stain. See if I care.”

He seemed surprised by her dismissal, but then his eyes narrowed and he patted his pockets. His gaze landed on the empty ignition and flashed to her. “Gimme my key, girl.”

The hoarse whisper was probably meant to intimidate, but Liv wasn’t unsettled. Not like he’d intended, anyway. That raspy growl had heat creeping over her skin and she swallowed, eyes never leaving his, slowly shaking her head. The corner of his mouth hitched for a fraction of a second, and then his muscles tensed and she knew he was about to spring, like some kind of wild cat taking down a meddlesome bunny.

There was no choice but for the bunny to turn tail and run.

Her sneakers kicked up gravel as she spun and took off. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and as she rounded the corner and ducked back into the shadows, she felt a dark thrill roll down her spine. She leaned forward to peek around the corner of the building.

The parking lot was empty except for the motorcycle.

Where was he?

She turned her head in time to see the flash of a body emerge from the darkness, but a calloused palm clamped over her mouth before her startled shriek could escape. Daryl tugged her back into the shadows and against the rough wooden wall, keeping her tucked firmly into it with his own body. She panted against his hand, eyes wide as they perused his features and zeroed in on his lips.

“Woman…” He dropped the hand, then slid both around her hips and slipped them into her back pockets, searching for his key.

Liv couldn’t catch her breath. Her fingers curled into the cotton shirt he wore beneath the soft leather vest. Her heart pounded, and at that moment she didn’t care who might see them. She wanted—_needed_—his mouth on hers. So she tugged at his shirt, catching him off guard, and pulled him down so that she could slant her lips against his. The bite of whiskey, the earthiness of tobacco, and the flavor of the man himself assailed her senses.

He jerked back after a few seconds. “The hell you think you’re doin’?”

Embarrassment made her flush. “I—oh, Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m not…I don’t usually do stuff like that,” she said. She wasn’t sure what had come over her, truth be told. Something about Daryl had her hiking her metaphorical skirts. Some combination of his giving chase, the intimacy of being hidden in the shadows, and that underlying ferocity that made her wonder what it’d be like to be sexed by him good and long. She licked her lips as her mind ran away to thoughts of rough hands and nipping teeth and animalistic frenzy.

“You oughta quit lookin’ at me like that,” he said, voice a quiet rumble. “Look at a man like that, he’ll think you’re after somethin’.”

“What if I am?” she breathed.

He closed the space between them again, warm breath fanning against her cheek as he leaned close to her ear and braced his hands on the wall on either side of her head. “What is it you think you’re after with me, exactly?” He turned his head, brushed lips over her racing pulse. “I’m sure there’s plenty-a guys ‘round here who’d be happy to split those lily-white thighs.”

Liv closed her eyes as a shiver coursed through her, and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth to stifle a whimper.

He brought a hand to her cheek and her lips parted. “Gives me all sortsa ideas,” he growled, slicking his thumb across her plump wet lip.

_Hoo boy_. Her legs shook. She didn’t think she’d ever been so turned on in all her life.

What was she doing? She always did the good thing, always kept her life in order. Folks came to her when they had problems because she was queen of controlling chaos. She never did anything without analyzing every possible outcome.

So why in God’s name was she hiding behind the tavern, flushed and aroused, with a guy she’d only spoken to a handful of times?

“Nothin’ to say, huh?” He ran his tongue around the shell of her ear, then sharply bit the lobe. Her knees buckled and she gasped, but quickly righted herself. He straightened slowly. “That’s what I figured.” He all but radiated smug coolness, no doubt thinking she was some damn fool who’d gotten in over her head.

“I want to kiss you again,” she said, meeting his gaze.

His chilly façade slipped for a fraction of a second and he swallowed, brows furrowing slightly. “Girl, you got no business kissin’ strangers in parking lots. ‘specially me.”

“I’m ain’t a girl. I’m grown, same as you.”

He gave a scornful chuckle and shook his head. “Ain’t near the same as me,” he said. “You oughta get back to your brother ‘fore you get yourself into something you ain’t ready to handle.”

Liv took a deep breath. “You’d be surprised what I’m ready to handle.” She saw the flicker of desire and something darker warring in his eyes, and reached out to touch his arm. _All or nothing. For once, take a leap._ “Come home with me.”

He shook his head, kept his eyes locked on hers. “Don’t know what you’re messin’ with.”

“We’re adults, Daryl. There’s nothing wrong with—”

“Woman, you ain’t known me five minutes and here you are ‘bout to come in my hand just from me talkin’ to you, so excuse me if I don’t think you’re the best judge of what’s right and wrong.” He paced the small area, scowling toward a couple who left the bar laughing.

She fidgeted with her clothes, righting them so it didn’t look like she’d been going at it like a teenager on prom night right outside her family business.

He sighed. “A’ight, fine,” he said, still scowling. “I ain’t goin’ home with you though. We doin’ this on my terms, not yours. You got a problem with that, you best speak up.”

She smiled and shook her head quickly. “No. No problem.”

“A’ight.”

She looked away. “So…maybe we should have dinner or something?”

“Guess so.” He gripped her chin and kissed her, a brief press of lips and tangle of tongues, then straightened and sauntered away. “See y’tomorrow,” he said without turning.

Liv leaned against the corner and watched him walk away, past his motorcycle and to the curb where a taxi waited. Her lips curved as she realized he’d had no intention of driving himself. “Could’ve mentioned you’d called a cab and I would’ve given your key back.”

He smirked over his shoulder as he slid into the taxi, throwing her one last glance filled with dark promises.

\--

For the next two weeks, Liv saw Daryl every night, but only under the most virtuous of conditions. They’d had dinner together some (take out, eaten at the tavern). They’d discussed—or rather, she’d discussed and he’d grunted noncommittal replies—attending the town’s Peanut Festival together in a couple of days. They’d exchanged cell numbers so she could text him and he could rarely reply, because really, if a man isn’t exactly chatty to begin with, he’s not going to take time to type a response to a subtle (or not-so-subtle) suggestion as to how they could be spending their time. He hadn’t even kissed her again. Not once. She suspected it was all part of his terms, for whatever reason, his knowing how badly she wanted him and keeping her at arm’s length.

So _maybe_ she’d picked the shortest dress in her closet tonight to work in, but she’d only really ever worn it once, and she was feeling pretty good about her legs today.

And _maybe_ she’d worn the garter belt she bought a few Halloweens ago when she’d dressed up as a zombie hooker, but she was an independent woman and could wear whatever she wanted.

And _maybe_ she was scooting around on her barstool and it was making her skirt crawl up to flash the garter in Daryl’s direction, but that was pure happenstance.

She reached across the bar for a bowl of nuts, glancing behind her toward the crew from Jim’s. Blue eyes scorched her as he glowered in her direction. She pasted on an innocent expression and sat back down on the stool, grinning into her bottle of lager. Her phone vibrated and felt a zip of victory, but her smile turned to a wince when she caught sight of the caller ID.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Hey, baby. What’re you doing?”

“Oh, nothing.” _Trying to entice a man to have crazy monkey sex with me_. “Just hanging around at the tavern.”

“Aw, you’re such a sweet girl. How’s your brother doing?”

“He’s fine.” She caught Scotty’s eye and he held up two bottles, shaking his head in silent refusal to talk. “Pretty busy tonight.” She slid from her stool and went into the private office.

“Okay, well I won’t keep you. I was just gonna tell you that Dad talked to Hershel the other day. Said you helped deliver Mary’s foal. Said you did real good.”

She snorted. “Did he tell you I cried?”

“He mentioned it. But we all knew you were a gentle soul, Liv honey. You’ll make a great vet if you’d get back to school.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d thrown up the day she’d had to dissect a dead cat in class, and just the thought of having to put an animal to sleep made her tear up. “Maybe soon. I’m still getting stuff figured out.”

“Mm-hm. Scotty says you’ve been seeing a fella from Jim’s shop?”

“Sort of. Nothing too serious right now, just kinda…ya know…keeping it casual.” Her phone beeped, alerting her to a text. “Hang on a sec, Mom.”

She flipped screens, her stomach fluttering at the single command from Daryl: _Outside_.

She put the phone back to her ear. “Ya there? Sorry.”

“I’m here. Like I said, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to hear your voice. Me and Dad are thinking about coming up in a month or two. You got room for us?”

She smiled. “It’s your house, Ma. I think I can fit you in.” Her phone beeped again. She checked it quickly. _Bring ur ass._ She lifted the phone again, tapping her foot as she impatiently waited to end the call.

“--didn’t know if you and your man were at stayin’ over stage yet. I won’t act like you wouldn’t get there. You’re not some innocent, impressionable girl. Of course, to know you’re not shacked up and livin’ in sin does a lot by way of letting us know we did good raising you.”

“Not shacked up. And even if I was, you still did good raisin’ us.” Another text alert. And then another, rapid-fire.

“It’s good of you to say so,” Mom said with a chuckle. “Okay, baby. I’ll let you go. Love you. Tell my baby boy I love him too. I’ll call you over the weekend.”

“Okay, Mama. Love you too.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye.” She ended the call and flipped to her texts, excitement building as she read each little bubble:

_Outside._

_Bring ur ass._

_No bra or panties._

_Keep the stockings_.

No bra or panties? Hoo boy. Was she seriously going to stroll through the Friday night crowd wearing nothing but a flimsy Henley t-shirt dress and some thigh-highs?

Yes. Yes, she was.

She hurried through the door that led to the back stairs up to Scotty’s apartment and quickly shucked her underthings, tossing them in his hamper. She’d get them another time and claim they were from when she used the shower after a late shift or something. Though he probably wouldn’t ask questions anyway. She texted Daryl on the way back downstairs to let him know she was on her way.

She scooted through the busy crowd, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone, and tossed a quick wave in her brother’s direction.

As she crossed the parking lot and caught sight of Daryl sitting on his Triumph, she felt lighter. Funny how that happened, as if letting him run things physically took the weight of the day’s cares off her. She trusted him enough to let go and follow his lead, something she’d never really done. She reckoned if given enough time, she’d fall head over heels for the man, sex or no sex.

He tossed his cigarette and straddled his bike. “Took you long enough.”

“I had a call,” she said distractedly. “Um…I can’t ride that.”

“Sure ya can.”

“It’s a death trap. And I don’t have a hel—”

He cut her off by holding out a shiny black helmet, price tag still on. Well, shit. He’d bought a helmet. Just for her. She sighed and took it, slipping it over her head.

“You feel like a huge dork when you wear one of these?” she asked, bobbling her head to get used to the weight.

He slid forward on the seat to make room for her and smiled fully, a rare sight. “Naw. I don’t usually wear one though.”

“That’s not smart,” she muttered. She straddled the metallic beast and wrapped her arms around Daryl’s middle, grunting when he hooked the backs of her knees and hauled her closer.

“Mind your legs,” he called, cranking the engine. “Don’t touch the pipes.”

She kept her feet where he put them the entire ride and clung to his back, so close she wondered if she was hurting him, fingers and arms and thighs squeezing him for all she was worth. She hadn’t opened her eyes at all, either, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

After what seemed to Liv like hours, the motorcycle stopped and he cut the engine. She pried herself off him and took off the helmet, shaking out her hair and breathing deep. He’d taken her to the lake, to the nature trail side located in the county park.

“Isn’t the park closed?”

He peered up at her with a curious look. “For a woman so worried ‘bout everything else, you were awful quick to come rushin’ out at my beck and call.” He straightened, sidling closer to her with his head bowed slightly and his eyes up, the full moon glinting off them. The faintest hint of a smile danced on his features and he caught the inside of his lip in his teeth. “No bra. No panties. I could feel your heat the whole way over.”

He was a meager few inches away now, and Liv still stared dumbly. She blinked at him when he held up two strips of cloth. “Whatcha gonna do with those?”

“You,” he said. He nodded toward the Triumph. “On the bike. Uh-uh,” he said when she started to straddle it forward. He twirled a finger in the air. “Facin’ me.”

The image was clear to her now. _Oh_. She pivoted, her skirt tugging up and the muggy air kissing her warm skin as she widened her legs and leaned against the fuel tank. Her cheeks flushed and she knew if the light of the moon was any brighter, he’d be able to see her blush. But his eyes were fixed to the straps of her garters and where the hem of her skirt just barely covered her nakedness. “Now what?”

He seemed to shake himself out of his trance. “Now you sit there and keep quiet.” Snapping the cloth strips between his fists, he approached her. He held out his hand for hers and when her fingertips touched his, he guided her arm out, stretching it along the handlebars before securing her wrist with a firm knot. The other wrist followed suit, and there she was, stretched out before him and completely at his mercy.

And she’d never felt more contented.

“You a’ight?”

She bobbed her head, swallowing to soothe her suddenly dry throat. “Don’t know I’ve ever been better, actually.”

Daryl nodded and ambled a slow circle around her, his gaze wandering her body at his leisure, lingering on her breasts and thighs in a way that had her breaths stuttering every now and then. He stopped behind her, ran calloused fingers over the sides of her neck and her clavicles, and lower, until they reached the tiny buttons at the top of her dress. He slowly unfastened them, stroking inch after inch of pale skin he revealed.

“You know how many times I’ve jerked off, thinking ‘bout you just like this?” His voice had taken on a dreamy quality, as if every word he uttered was being dragged from his soul against his will, and he was helpless to do anything about it. “You got inside my head, and for the life of me, I can’t get you out.”

He slid his hands beneath her dress, found her breasts, and squeezed. Liv arched into his touch as best as her makeshift restraints would allow. She bit her lip, trying in vain to keep quiet like he’d said, even though part of her wanted to know what would happen if she didn’t. He kneaded her flesh, teased her nipples with rough twists, and lowered his head to kiss her. She moaned against his tongue when he tweaked harder, then he pulled away. She squirmed on the seat, trying to ease the ache he’d created, but he saw her as he moved around in front of her and gave her outer thigh a sharp rap with his palm.

“None of that,” he said, though he seemed pleased by the throaty cry that had escaped her. He parted the front of her dress, baring her breasts, and then met her eyes. “You get off when I say, y’understand? Nod your head if y’understand.”

She nodded, clenching her teeth as the sting on her thigh radiated to her core in pulsing waves of pleasure. Through heavy lids she watched as he leaned forward and took her left nipple between his lips, drawing deeply on it, his mouth hot and the pressure almost unbearably tight, and she arched again to be closer, to offer him more. He released and moved to the other side for the same treatment, tormenting her with flicks of his tongue and tiny nips from his teeth. His palms smoothed over her knees and up her thighs, his thumbs sliding beneath the elastic garters and out again, up and up until he was dragging her skirt up too.

She didn’t know how much more she could handle, and cripes, he hadn’t even touched her _there_ yet.

And then he did. With an agile movement, he slid a finger deep inside her and she clenched around him, her eyes closing and her mouth opening in a rough gasp as her hips automatically lifted to better accommodate.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he growled, and he kissed her roughly. Desperate for him, she gave as good as she got. He added a second finger, pumping and crooking them just so, and she knew she was on the precipice about to tumble off.

She was on fire, panting and flushed, and oh God how she needed to move, just a little bit of friction, just a little, and she’d ease the hunger that was biting away at her.

Daryl pulled away, sat on the end of the bike, and looked at her. Just looked. “You’re a picture,” he said. “Look at yourself.”

She peered down at her swollen breasts, moving languidly with every panting breath, lewdly jutting nipples still damp from his mouth. Her legs splayed wide and her skirt rucked up.

A flash of light in the darkness blinded her momentarily, and when her vision cleared his face was illuminated by his phone. He turned the screen to show her the picture he’d taken. “Look how fuckin’ primed you look.” His voice had gotten even deeper, raspier.

She panted and struggled to keep from writhing. “Daryl!”

“You’re supposed to keep quiet,” he reminded her. Then he stood and leaned over her, starting the whole process over again. Lips, breasts, nipples, legs…it was maddening. She heard the soft jingle of his belt buckle, the quiet rustling of cloth, and suddenly one of his hands left her and she knew he’d gone in search of his own release.

She couldn’t keep still anymore. She just couldn’t. Her hips rocked of their own accord, but instead of giving her another spank, he abandoned the breast he’d been feasting on and shoved her dress up to her belly. Then buried his face between her thighs.

Liv shrieked, her legs drawing up instinctively as she rolled toward his mouth. He caught the back of one knee and opened her wider as his tongue and teeth and lips whipped her to frenzy. She strained against her bindings, but _fuck_, he tied good knots. Pressure built and built, searing and throbbing through her entire body.

“_Now_,” he growled, turning his face into the skin of her thigh and biting her. Hard.

She shouted his name as she came in a rush of pleasure so intense the world went black for a brief second. His fingers tightened on her leg and he grunted against her skin, finding his own release, then relinquished the hold he had on her and gently nuzzled the spot he’d bitten.

As she struggled to breathe, she was aware that he was moving. Again, the rustle of cloth, the jingle of the belt buckle. Was he getting put back together already? She could barely remember what year it was.

His touch at her elbow made her open her eyes. His face was closed at first, eyes guarded. She smiled up at him and exhaled a laugh, and his tension dissipated. He untied her wrists, carefully lifting each and placing a soft kiss to the reddened skin. She’d struggled so much in her attempts to get at him that even the softness of the cotton rag he’d used had chafed it.

He ushered her off the bike and onto a blanket he’d halfway spread out on the ground, which, from her perspective, didn’t go down nearly as gracefully as it always did in the movies. Still, after a moment he was settled on his back with his head resting on his hands and she was curled against his side, her cheek against his bent arm. She playfully bit at the scrawling demon tattoo that decorated his inner bicep and smiled up at him. His own lips curled softly and he idly stroked her shoulder, closing his eyes with a quiet exhalation.

If this is what she’d been missing by needing to be in control of every little thing in her life, she’d gladly let go and enjoy the ride more often.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanging out. Familiar faces. V-Card discovery. Daryl Dixon overdramatic freakout (aka squirrel-throwin mad).

The day of the Peanut Festival was sunny and warm. Liv wandered through the crowd, looking at the wares and baked goods being peddled by the churches and community groups. A soft breeze blew, tugging gently at her ponytail, pulling a few rust-colored strands loose of the hair tie. She tucked them behind her ear and smiled at familiar faces. Practically the whole town had turned out for the festival, but she was only looking out for one person, and she’d yet to see him.

“Hey, Liv!”

She turned and grinned at Beth Greene and her boyfriend-of-the-week, a cute kid named Zach. _Bless his heart_, she thought. “Hey, Beth. How’s your daddy?”

“He’s fine. He’s at home. Said he didn’t want to leave Mary’s foal just yet.”

“Which means he didn’t wanna get out and deal with all these people,” Liv said.

“Pretty much.” Beth smiled, her youthful face alight with mischief. “Maggie says you been going out with the newest mechanic at Jim’s place. Daryl something?”

Liv shuffled. “I don’t know if I’d call it going out. We been seeing each other some, I guess.” _And wallowing mostly naked in the moonlight until I screamed his name. _“Is my tragically short love life all you girls have to talk about out there on the farm?”

“Pretty much,” Beth said again. “Any gossip is good gossip. Oh, speak of the devil…” She dipped her blonde head, motioning over Liv’s shoulder.

Liv peeked back. Daryl stood off to the side, waiting patiently for her to finish her conversation.

“Well,” Beth drawled, throwing Liv a smug smirk, “we best get back to the fun. I’ve got a date with the funnel cake stand. C’mon,” she said, tugging Zach’s hand. “See you, Liv. Oh! Almost forgot. Biscuit’s pups are about due. Daddy says when it’s time he wants you to come deliver. Said you can never get too much practice for when you get your clinic open.”

Liv nodded. “Okay. Just give me a call.” When Beth had gone, she strolled over to Daryl. “You could’ve come over, you know.”

He scoffed. “That kid’d talk the ears off an elephant. No thank you.”

She tucked her hands in her back pocket and rocked back to meet his eyes, unable to stop the smile that had to show all the way to her toes. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His mouth curved into a small smile of his own and he dipped his head, planting a quick, chaste kiss. He straightened and jerked his chin. “Wanna walk?”

“Sure.”

They walked side by side, and Liv battled with herself about holding his hand. More than likely he’d just pull away. But he might not. Things had shifted a bit. Friday night when he’d dropped her off, just as the first cracks of dawn broke the sky, he’d kissed her, and it had been deep and sweet, with just a tinge of the lingering hunger they both felt. He’d told her he had to go to Atlanta for a day or two, but they could meet at the festival if she wanted.

So they were sort of like a couple, right?

Maybe she’d just brush his fingers, see if he pulled away. But maybe he’d think she was just being a silly girl. _Aw, hell_._ You’re overthinking everything again._ She chewed her lip. _Just do it_, she thought, and slipped her hand into his. He tensed for a fraction of a second, then glanced over at her and shifted his hand, linking his rough fingers with hers.

“You ever been to the Peanut Festival before?”

“Nah,” he said, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “Ain’t usually one for stuff like this.”

“What brings you out today?” she asked. He cut her a look, but didn’t answer. Which spoke volumes. Liv’s stomach did a little victory cartwheel. “I see.”

“Doubt it,” he grunted. “You want a cookie or something?” He pointed toward the First Baptist bake sale.

She shook her head. “Full disclosure: I kinda hate peanuts.”

He chuckled, an unpracticed sound, as if it’d been years since it had been made. “Pretty much screwed today then, ain’t you?”

_One can hope_. “Looks like.” She waved at Carl Grimes, who was running toward his father, dodging people left and right.

Rick Grimes intercepted his son. “Slow it down, boy, before you break one of these old people’s hips.” He passed him a wad of ones, shaking his head when the boy took off again. He called after him, lifted his eyebrows in warning, and Carl headed toward the games at a much slower pace.

Rick approached them, followed by Shane, his deputy.

“How’s it going, Sheriff?”

“Aw, can’t complain, Liv. Pretty quiet today, actually.” Rick’s eyes, ever assessing, took in her companion and their clasped hands. “Daryl.”

“Sheriff.”

“Well, well,” Shane said with a big smile. “Look at you two love birds. I’s wondering if you were ever gonna get you a man, Livvy.”

Rick threw Shane a look that told him to back off. “Daryl, can I talk to you a minute?”

Daryl gave a curt nod and stepped over to the side with him, leaving Liv with Shane. Super.

“Hell, Livvy, I never pegged you going for the likes of Daryl Dixon.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “Shane, the whole of what you know about me couldn’t fill a mouse’s teacup.”

“Aw, no need to be so cranky. Hell, I’m happy for you. I always figured you’d die a virgin, the way clung to it so long.” His radio squawked and he answered it, shifting from annoying asshole to dutiful deputy. “Hey, Rick. We got a call.” He nodded at Liv. “Always a pleasure, Livvy. Daryl.”

They walked around a little longer, but after his conversation with Rick, Daryl was quieter. She wondered what they’d talked about, but figured it wasn’t her business or he’d tell her. As they headed toward Main Street parking after several minutes of silence, she cleared her throat.

“You wanna come to the tavern? I’ll fix you a sandwich.”

“They’re closed, aren’t they?”

“As many times as I’ve had to bail out Scotty when he locks himself out? Pfft. I’ve had a key for years.” She motioned toward her car. “Come on.”

“I’ll meet you there,” he said.

“Okay.”

She let herself in while she waited on him and busied herself behind the bar. She and Scotty always kept sandwich stuff in the mini-fridge, but she realized she didn’t know what Daryl ate, so she decided just to pull him a beer instead. She finished just as he came in, so she slid it to him with a smile.

“You bring your other boyfriends in for free beer and sandwiches?” he asked lightly.

She had already turned to gather bread and napkins. “Nah.”

“Figured that deputy’d be a sandwich fan.”

Liv looked over her shoulder. “Who, Shane?” She grimaced. “We never…oh, God, the thought alone is enough to give me nightmares for decades.” She laughed and went back to her task. “Scotty used to run with Rick and Shane in high school. I was a few grades below ‘em, so…” She shrugged and turned back to him. “Ham or turkey? For your sandwich,” she added when he blinked at her.

“Either’s fine.”

She bent to retrieve the meats, tossing them onto the bar. “Shane slept with Scotty’s girlfriend at prom, so he hasn’t had much to do with him since then. I don’t weep for the loss. Rick’s good, though. He’s about the best person I could think of to be a sheriff.”

“You and him…?”

She laughed again. “No. Why all the questions ‘bout old boyfriends?”

Was he jealous? She hoped he was. If she was important enough to him to get jealous over, then that was a step in a good direction.

Daryl shifted on his stool. “Conversation,” he mumbled. He took a drink of his draught and took out a cigarette as she started building sandwiches. “Heard that deputy somethin’ that’s got me curious. How many men you ever been with, anyway?”

Her eyebrows rose. “None,” she said with a shrug. “You eat pickles on yours?”

“What?”

“Pickles.”

“Woman—” He reached out and took hold of her wrist, his expression inscrutable. “You ain’t never…?”

“Nah. Never had any interest.” Liv looked at him closely. Truth be told, he looked like he was about to throw up. “You okay?”

“What the hell you doin’ keepin’ something like that from me?” he demanded, shoving off the stool to pace the length of the bar. His expression definitely wasn’t inscrutable now. It was livid. “You mean to tell me you and me’s been foolin’ around, and you’re a damn virgin?”

She pinched her eyes shut and shook her head, waving her hands. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re mad at me for that? That makes no sense.”

“The hell it don’t! Shit, girl, I woulda never even got started with you if I’da known that. What’re you doin’ coming at me like a bitch in heat in the parking lot if you ain’t never even had sex before?”

He was wheedling at her temper, but she mentally counted to ten and spoke calmly. “First of all—skipping over the completely offensive description of that night—I don’t have an infectious disease, Daryl, I just haven’t had sex with another actual person. Second, I’m pretty sure everybody was a virgin at some point. Don’t make me a freak.”

“Christ, you don’t get it at all! You just think it’s just some exciting game ‘cause you ain’t never been with anybody else before!”

And just like that, her carefully constructed levelheadedness went up in smoke. “Don’t you talk to me like I’m a child, Daryl Dixon,” she snapped. “It ain’t like I’m some fifteen-year-old kid who’s never had a vibrator—”

He flung his arms out, as if pointing to some flow-chart only he could see. “Don’t you realize I coulda hurt you?” he interrupted. “Christ, woman, if I’da fucked you that night—especially _that_ night—I was drunk off my ass, and if I’da…” He shook his head. “Look, this ain’t gonna work.”

She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“This. You ‘n’ me.” He waved a finger between them. “I ain’t after deflowering virgins, Liv. Ain’t my thing.”

“So you’re, what? Breaking up with me?” For some reason she couldn’t place, that pissed her off more than anything else that had transpired over the last ten minutes. She was dimly aware that she might be sad later, but at the moment, she had zero fucks to give. “Few dinners and a little hand holding? Even for someone as pure and unblemished as me, seems like breaking up’s a bit formal for that.” She tapped her chin as if thinking. “I mean, unless you’re also counting the time you went down on me at the lake.”

His eyes flashed. “That was a mistake. All of it was. It’s best you just forget about it.”

_Ouch_. “Oh, consider it forgotten. Nothin’ I can’t get from the right plaything anyway.” She slammed the top on a sandwich and slid it across the bar. “For the road. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

She turned on her heel and stormed to the back room, pacing and seething, until she heard the bell above the door jangle. So much for enjoying the ride.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merle's an ass. Liv gets wasted. Daryl's a sweetie. Liv pukes a lot.

A couple of days later, when she’d cooled off, a wave of disappointment washed over her. She wasn’t disappointed in Daryl as much as she was in herself.

She realized, in hindsight, that virginity might be daunting for a man with his appetite for dominance, especially since he wasn’t a cruel man. If he’d been an unfeeling sadist, he might not’ve cared, but Daryl was a lot kinder than he gave himself credit for. She learned that during The Night at the Lake, when he’d gently soothed her wrists and held her close as the air had grown cool on her bared skin. He’d felt her shiver and had buttoned her dress, then rolled onto his side, tucking her into the curve of his body. They’d lain like that for hours, listening to the night sounds, drifting in and out of consciousness together, and for a precious space of time, he was completely at ease.

Which is why she’d gotten so pissed that he’d acted like none of it mattered. She’d felt something in that handful of hours that she doubted most people would feel if they lived three lifetimes. And for him to say she didn’t really understand how she felt about it? Hell naw. She could handle a lot of things with the poise and grace of her Antebellum ancestors, but she’d be damned if someone was gonna talk to her like she didn’t know her own mind.

Liv groaned and rolled out of bed, switching off the alarm that wasn’t set to go off for another hour and a half. She shuffled into the kitchen and took out a mixing bowl and ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. Baking helped her relax. She hooked her iPod up to the speaker system and cranked the volume until she could barely hear herself think over the beats of her Hip-Hop playlist. The pulse of the bass pounded through her. Ludacris came on and she let loose a snatch of words here and there, but she couldn’t keep up with him for long.

As a distraction tactic, it worked.

When the playlist ended, she had four dozen cookies cooling on various surfaces around her kitchen. She sighed and picked up her phone to call Scotty and tell him she’d bring them to the tavern for him to sell, but found herself texting Daryl instead. He’d be up by now.

_Can we talk?_

She waited a few minutes, and then tried again. _I wasn’t trying to keep anything secret but I get why you’re mad. But the last couple of weeks have been too nice to throw away like this. Plz talk to me._

Her phone buzzed and she held her breath, exhaling in a rush as she read his reply: _Nuthin 2 say but bye_

She collapsed on her couch with a huff and tossed her phone onto the coffee table. Asshole. She glared up at the ceiling, stewing in wounded anger. She’d seen people break up over the years for ridiculous reasons, but this took the frickin’ cake. Dumped for being a virgin? The hell?

She was all for letting people have their own opinions, and she damn sure didn’t want him to shackle himself to her if he didn’t want to be with her, but _this_…

Nope. Nuh-uh.

She sat up, grabbed her phone and keys, and headed for the door. Then she backtracked and shucked her Spiderman camisole, pulled on a bra and t-shirt, and tugged a pair of wrinkled khaki shorts over her panties. Once she’d dressed, she resumed her mission and strode to the car.

No way in hell was she gonna let him dump her just because she wasn’t as experienced as he _thought_ she needed to be. There had to be something else eating at him. If he figured she was too needy, that was fine. Too reserved? Ha, but okay.

Any legitimate reason—hell, any half-assed decent reason—and she’d leave his place with a wave and buy him a beer next time he came in the tavern.

But she was going to get to the bottom of the issue, if for no other reason than because she felt she deserved it. Sure, they’d gone from zero to sixty in a fraction of a second, but it’s not like she’d tried to change him in any way. She’d been drawn to the complexity of his character since the first week he’d started coming in the bar, and she’d accepted it willingly. Maybe he wasn’t so open-minded. She’d soon see.

The closer she got to Jim’s shop, the weaker her indignation became. She idled her car outside the shop, staring at the garage doors and gnawing her lip, battling herself. She was so caught up in her thoughts that a soft rap at her window startled a squeak out of her. She gave a wobbly smile to Jim and rolled the window down. “Hey.”

“Liv,” he said by way of greeting. He pulled a pack of smokes out of the pocket of his uniform shirt and tapped it against his palm. His wide brown eyes studied her. “Car giving you trouble?”

“Hm? Oh, uh…no. Is Daryl here yet?”

Jim took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke away from her, shaking his head. “Naw, he’s not due for another hour yet. Usually gets here when we open.”

Well, damn. “Okie dokie. I’ll see if I can catch him at home.” She smiled again and felt like she was showing way too many teeth for it to be convincing.

“You a’ight going out to East End by yourself? His place is in the Holler.”

Double-damn. She knew Daryl lived on East End—it was a small town—but Foxy Hollow? People called the trailer park “Oxy Hollow” because if anybody was gonna get busted for pushing, nine times outta ten they were selling to or buying from somebody in the Hollow.

She nodded at him. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks, Jim.”

“Yep. Just see you don’t make him late. He’s the most efficient fella I got around here. The rest of these boys can’t tell their ass from a hole in the ground.” He patted the top of her car and tucked his hands in his pockets, whistling as he walked toward the office.

As she drove toward the Hollow, she practiced her speech. It was eloquent and polite. She practiced various responses to his potential responses.

Best case scenario would be if he answered the door, let her start to have her say, and realized he was being unnecessarily difficult. An apologetic kiss was not required, but would be welcomed.

Worst case scenario would be if it wasn’t he who answered the door but some twiggy PhD beauty queen (who’d no doubt taken an early interest in carnal delights and had long since shed her offensive virginity, this being the worst-case and all) who told her to eff off. Daryl’d have to call the cops because Liv would tackle Dr. Implants, then Rick and Shane would come and haul her off and she’d have to take a drug test because all this started in the Hollow, and Maggie Greene would see her get taken in from the diner across from the police station, and she’d tell Hershel, and he’d call her parents before the ink’d dried from her fingerprinting.

She could _not_ go to prison wearing day-old Spiderman panties.

Her car lurched to a stop behind Daryl’s motorcycle and she cut the engine. She eyed the trailer in front of her. Daryl’s bike was parked there and his truck was pulled in beside it, so it had to be the right place. She got out and locked her doors, then turned and walked down the broken, uneven cinderblock path to the weather-worn porch.

The glint of chrome caught her eye and she saw that on the other side of Daryl’s truck was an ostentatious Chopper with an SS symbol. “Classy,” she muttered. None of her possible scenarios had accounted for potential neo-Nazi guests.

She climbed the shaky steps and knocked on the door. She knocked again after a few seconds. She heard heavy footfalls and a male voice, but not Daryl’s. She flinched back a half-step when the door jerked open and a man stuck his head out.

“Sweet thang, we don’t want no cookies, don’t give a shit about visitin’ your church, and if you’re what passes for a whore ‘round here, it’s gonna be a damn long couple-a weeks. Get gone.”

And the stranger shut the door in her face.

She stared at the peeling paint, completely at a loss. Not the worst-case option, at least. Huffing a breath and squaring her shoulders, she rapped on the door again.

The man jerked it open, this time holding it wide. “Listen, ginger—”

“Liv,” she corrected. “I’m lookin’ for Daryl.”

At her name, the older man’s expression turned evaluative. “Well,” he drawled. “So you’re the piece-a ass’s got my baby brother in a snit, huh?” He trailed his gaze over her, lips pursed thoughtfully, and then turned and went back inside. When Liv hesitated in the doorway, he called, “Come in. Shit. Lettin’ all the bough air out.”

She stepped into the shadowy trailer and followed Daryl’s brother into the living room. A small TV sat in the corner, some old movie playing on it with the volume muted. He plopped onto a worn couch and propped a leg on the scarred coffee table, sprawling across the cushions. He picked up a beer and drained it, tossed the empty can in the general direction of a trashcan at the end of the sofa, and cracked open another one. He looked over and held up a can in offering.

“No thanks,” she said. “It’s like nine in the morning.”

The man wheezed a laugh. “Five o’clock in Cancun.”

“It’s actually eight o’clock in Cancun,” she said distractedly, perusing the bookcase at the end of the couch.

“Well ain’t you just smart little thing.”

She ignored him. There were a number of paperbacks haphazardly stacked on the shelves: some How-To books, a few mysteries, a few true crime._ As I Lay Dying. The Grapes of Wrath. A Child Called It. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter._ A widely eclectic mix of genres and titles that had Liv’s eyebrows rising in surprise.

“C’mere, Sugar Tits, and lemme get a good look atcha.” He patted the couch cushion next to him. “C’mon over here and talk to ol’ Merle. I know I look mean, but with the right cocktail of chemicals, I’m gentle and welcoming as a pussy…cat.” His smile was mocking. “I won’t bite, ‘less you like that kinda thing.”

Her back stiffened. Did he know? No, Daryl wouldn’t have said anything. Not about that.

“Is Daryl here or not?” she asked. She held Merle’s gaze and his expression shifted to one of cool indifference, as if he didn’t find her worth his trouble since she wasn’t giving him the reactions he wanted.

“No need gettin’ your tampon twisted.” He pulled a limp slice of pizza from a box tucked under the coffee table and jerked a thumb toward the back of the trailer. “Shower. G’on back. I’m sure he’d give you a wet’n’wild before he heads to work.”

A door opened from the back of the trailer and Daryl’s voice barked out. “Merle! You seen my work shirt?” He padded barefoot and bare-chested from the hallway to a pile of laundry spread across the kitchen table, still scrubbing his damp hair with a towel. His stained jeans rode low on his hips since he hadn’t bothered to buckle his belt yet. He tossed the wet towel over an empty chair and muttered to himself as he dug through the clothes.

Liv opened her mouth to speak at the same time he turned his back to the living room, stretching over the table as he searched for his uniform. The words caught in her throat as her eyes fixed on the thick, dark ropes of scars that crisscrossed his skin. He had another tattoo, more sprawling demons that covered the only piece of his back that wasn’t ruined with scar tissue.

God, what had happened to him? She’d been so, so wrong to assume she knew the reason he’d taken off. She didn’t know the first thing about his past, about whatever terrible things he’d endured that would leave marks like that on his body. And whatever they were, there was no way the marks on his soul weren’t at least as bad.

He pulled the shirt from the bottom of the stack and popped it in the air, trying to shake loose some of the wrinkles. She looked at Merle, who appeared to be watching the muted TV as he took another swig of his beer, but something about the way his shoulders were set betrayed the fact that he wasn’t as zoned out as he pretended.

She cleared her throat. “Hey, Daryl.” She swallowed, cursing the shaking in her voice.

He jerked around like she might’ve cocked a gun instead of offered a quiet greeting. “The hell are you doing here?” He threw an accusing glare at his brother. “You let her in?”

“Don’t make me no nevermind she’s here or not,” Merle said.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said, taking a step toward the kitchen.

“What, you some kinda stalker now?” He shrugged into his shirt and grabbed a pair of socks from the pile. “I done told ya we ain’t got nothin’ left to say.”

“We do, though,” she insisted. “Daryl—” She threw a glance at Merle. “Will you come outside and talk to me a minute?”

He shook his head and ducked to pick up his boots, brushing past her as he headed for the door. "Gotta get to work.”

“Will y’at least come to the tavern tonight, please?”

“For Chrissakes, Raggedy Ann, have some dignity,” Merle said, throwing her a disgusted sneer. “If Daryl wasn’t such a pussy he’d take you in hand and have your ass through the door already, seein’ he don’t want you here.” He turned on Daryl. “Never did have the stomach to raise a hand to a bitch though, ‘less she’s wrapped around him.”

“Shut up, Merle,” Daryl said. “You got enough shit on your plate without crawlin’ up in mine.” He nodded at her to answer her question, one curt bob of his head, then strode to the door and shoved through it, stomping down the steps.

A second later a heavy truck door slammed shut and his old Chevy roared to life, rattling the change in the glass ashtray on the shelf next to Liv’s head. She stared after him, shoulders slumping and hot tears stinging the backs of her eyes.

“You done got yourself one hell of a pickle, ain’tcha?”

“Suck dirt and die,” she said, whirling on Merle. She grabbed a handful of coins from the ashtray and launched them at him, a monetary scatter-gun. He shot up from the couch, squaring himself like a prizefighter. Liv’s stomach flipped—by his own admission, he’d have no problem knocking her around. Still, when facing a dangerous animal on its home turf, it’s best to stand your ground. Her chin came up as she mustered as much false-bravado as she could, planting her feet and clenching her hands to fists.

In a blink, Merle’s demeanor changed. Where he looked a second ago like he’d love nothing better than to throttle her and toss her off the porch, now he slouched and wheezed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Aw, dammit, girl. You got more balls than Daryl’s got, I’ll give ya that.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and huffed a sigh.

“Who the hell are you to run him down like that?” she asked without much heat.

“I’m all he’s got, that’s who the hell I am,” Merle said. “Ain’t nobody gave a shit about Daryl a day in his life, ‘cept me.” He cocked his head and took a step toward her. “What, you think you do? Princess, you got no idea ‘bout my brother and what makes him tick. Hell, sometimes I look at him and even I don’t know what’s goin’ on in that thick head of his. Believe me when I tell ya he ain’t for you.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” Liv said.

That mocking grin returned and Merle tucked his hands in his pockets. “Well,” he drawled, “you had you a nice little _Leave It to Beaver_ life growin’ up, right? Mama and Daddy to take care of you. Probably a brother or sister—brother,” he interrupted, nodding. He mimed her fighting stance from earlier, making the USMC tattoo on his bicep flex. “Definitely brother, to look out for baby sister by teachin’ her how to hold her own. Even now you’re grown, you try to make ‘em all proud. Smart thing like you, you went to college straight outta high school. Probably made all A’s. How’m I doin’ so far?”

She swallowed. “How did you know all that?”

“Two sides to every coin, li’l sister,” he said, flipping a quarter in the air and catching it. “See, I ain’t never seen nobody’s life come up tails s’many times as the Dixons. Now Daryl, he’s been chasin’ the dream of comin’ up heads since he was a scrawny, squalling kid. And you?” He scoffed and flipped the coin to her. “Couldn’t be any plainer you got nothin’ but heads at every pitch. Only seems fitting he’d get tangled in with the likes of you.”

“How…what happened to his back?” she asked quietly.

“Hell, sweetheart,” he said tightly, lifting the hem of his beater and revealing a series of small scars on his stomach and ribs. “Not ever’body gets Beaver Cleaverville.” He popped a fresh beer and pointed at her. “Heads.” He twirled a finger in the air, indicating their surroundings. “Tails.” He took a deep pull from the beer and sighed gustily. “Now, get the fuck out and close the door behind ya.”

\--

Liv was distracted for most of the day, even with Sasha, Maggie Greene’s best friend, giving directions and making requests as she helped ready the back half of the tavern for Maggie’s bachelorette party. Scotty caught her attention a few times, throwing her a look that told her this was probably going to be the only time they rented out the space for a private party. The only other staff at the tavern was Karen, who was really more of a temp they called in when they got swamped.

As the afternoon turned into evening and the regulars started to arrive, Liv helped her brother man the bar while Karen worked the floor. A little after six, the crew from Jim’s shop came in and she held her breath. Caesar. Tyreese. Paul. She knew Glenn wasn’t coming because of the bachelorette party, but she waited, eyes fixed on the door. Daryl didn’t come in.

“Hey, Paulie.” She and Paul Monroe had gone to school together, ran around a lot as kids. He was Jesus to everybody else, thanks to his peacemaking abilities—plus, since growing out his hair and beard, he sorta looked like those painting of Jesus—but he was still just Paul to her. “Daryl not with y’all?” she asked, hoping she sounded casual.

Paul shook his head and slid onto a stool. “I don’t think so. He said something about doing some work on his truck.” He took a drink of beer and winced, deep dimples denting his cheeks. “He was in a shitty mood today anyway, Livvy. Wouldn’t make good company.”

He’d said he’d come. Liv felt a mix of anger and sadness churn in her gut.

“Hey, Jesus!” Tyreese called from the pool table. “Get over here, man. Martinez says he’s gonna take all your money tonight.”

Paul grinned over at Liv and jerked his head. “Duty calls. Oh, hey, start us a tab, will you?”

The bachelorette party got into full swing a bit later. She, Scotty, and Karen had to jump through hoops trying to keep orders filled. Sasha caught Liv as she dropped off another round of shots.

“I’ll pay tonight’s wages for you if you let Scott and Karen take care of everyone else and you run drinks for us,” she said. “I mean, you wouldn’t just be running drinks. You can stay and hang out and stuff.”

“I dunno,” Liv said. “It’s pretty busy, and—”

“For the love of God, yes,” Scotty said as he passed with a tray of empties. He looked at his sister. “If you handle the Greene’s party, me and Karen will deal with the rest. And that way we won’t all be scurrying around like mice in a maze.”

“Okay, fine,” Liv said.

“Awesome,” Sasha crowed, leading Liv to the party corner. “Ladies, we’ve got our very own personal bartender for the evening.”

“Drink!” the crowd cried.

“Er…um, no. I’m just gonna make sure you guys have every—”

“Driiiiiiink!”

A shot was passed to her and she sighed. She’d never been much of a drinker, having been brought up in and around the tavern and seeing what happened when people got too much into it.

Still, she was in the position to forget about a certain surly mechanic and his illogical hang-ups. No sooner had the uncharitable thought crossed her mind than a flash of his back and his horrible scars chased it, and her righteous anger was tainted by guilt, so she tossed back the Porn Star—blue curacao and sour raspberry liqueur—smiling at the hoots and cheers from Maggie and her cohort. Beth passed her a bottle of cider and she scooted into the half-moon booth.

Over the next few hours, Liv slowly transported inventory over until the girls had a nice collection of ingredients. Liquor flowed freely, and so did conversation. Liv put her code into the jukebox and cranked the music after her third shot, encouraging the girls to get up and dance. Some of the patrons joined them, looking for a laugh or an escort home. They danced and drank, drank and danced. As the night wore on, the crowd thinned until only a few people remained.

Liv was feeling nice, hadn’t thought about Daryl in a good fifteen minutes or so, when Paul danced her in a circle and she spotted him coming in the door. The song ended and she smiled at Paul, kissing his cheek.

“Good dancing,” she slurred. “One more?”

“Normally I would say yes, but I have to deliver a truck to Macon tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she smiled again. “Well, be careful going home, hm?” He nodded and walked away, calling out farewells to his friends and patting Daryl’s shoulder as he passed.

“The hell you think you’re doing here?” Liv asked, crossing her arms. She swayed a bit and played it off as wanting to lean against a nearby table.

Karen stepped between them. “Hey, Livvy? Go home, huh? Scotty and me will clean up. He’s giving last call in ten.”

“Scotty!” She whirled, going in search of her brother. “Don’t poop on Maggie’s party, you party pooper.”

Scotty was straightening chairs in the back and when he looked up, he sighed. “Liv, dammit, how much did you drink? You know you’re gonna end up puking everywhere.”

“I am a grown-ass woman,” she said. “Why’re you closing up? It’s Maggie’s party.”

“Maggie and Beth left like two hours ago. Sasha’s waiting on Tyreese, who’s waiting on Karen to get off work.” He spoke to someone over her shoulder. “Would you mind getting her home?”

Warm, rough fingers encircled her wrist. “C’mon, Liv.”

She pulled her hand away and turned, jabbing a finger against his chest. “I don’t need any help getting home,” she said. She looked up at him and gave a resolute nod. “And I’m gonna finish my shift because I’m a professional.”

Daryl frowned. “Thought you was studying to be a vet or something?”

“I am a bartender. And to tell you the truth,” she said, pivoting to speak to the room in general, “all I ever _wanted_ to be was a bartender. I can do things a vet can do, sure. But you know what? I don’t want to. Because when I see somethin’ hurtin’, it tears me up inside.” She brought her eyes back to Daryl’s. “S’why _you_ tear me up inside.”

“Olivia,” Scotty said firmly as he ushered her to the door. “Go home.”

“Fine. But I’m charging you a full shift.”

“I don’t pay you, remember?” Her brother nodded at Daryl, who held the door open for her to step through.

When he reached for her arm, she jerked away again and strode outside, teetering as she tried to maneuver on the loose gravel. He wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her and she shoved him, but he hauled her around and caught her wrists.

“Quit it,” he said quietly. “Liv.”

“Stop saying my name like that,” she snapped.

“Like what?”

“Like _that_! All hushed and concerned, like I’m a spooked horse goin’ nuts in the corral.”

“Kinda what you’re actin’ like.” He released one of her wrists and turned, heading toward her house, dragging her along behind him. He didn’t slow when she stumbled, just kept walking with purposeful steps. At her front door, he held out his hand. “Gimme your house key.”

“Aw, not gonna search my pockets this time?”

His eyes narrowed and he raised his eyebrows in warning. “Key.”

She grinned at him. “It’s in my purse.”

“You ain’t carrying a purse.”

“It’s in the office at the tavern. You’ll have to skedaddle over and get it. G’on,” she said, reaching down to slap his ass. “Scoot.”

Daryl let her go and shook his head, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small penknife. He flicked it open, jimmied it between the doorframe and the knob, and a second later, the door opened.

“That seems unsafe,” she muttered, stumbling inside when he nudged her forward.

“Go to bed, woman,” Daryl said. He flipped on a lamp and looked around the house, at the scores of family photos on the walls, the knick knacks and the framed paintings from kindergarten and the rest of the little things that clearly made the place scream “home.”

She wished she was drunker so she wouldn’t notice the way his eyes flicked from frame to frame, the shadows in them the only thing betraying the practiced indifference on his face. He didn’t have cute photos to remember his childhood. He had marred flesh and broken emotions.

Night and day. Heads and tails.

“You didn’t show up.”

At her words, he looked at her. “What?”

“You were supposed to come talk to me tonight, but you didn’t show up.” She perched on the edge of the coffee table.

“Was working on my truck. M’here now.”

“But I’m drunk now,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you sober, so I’d make sense. I had a speech, a plan, and now I don’t remember any of it, ‘cept where I was gonna tell you we didn’t have to have sex if you were scared of me.” She grew more upset with every word because this had been her chance, the one last shot at getting him to reconsider throwing her away.

Daryl’s eyebrows jumped, then lowered as his passive expression shifted into something more defensive. “Scared? I ain’t scared of nothin’, damn sure not no pretty little princess.”

Merle’s voice echoed in her mind._ Princess, you got no idea ‘bout my brother and what makes him tick. _Her eyes stung and she tucked her chin to her chest to hide the fact that she was crying.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sniffing quietly. “I didn’t mean…” She sighed and gave a wobbly smile. “Thank you, Daryl. For everything. You can go now. And I-I’ll leave you be. I really ain’t a stalker, contrary to me showing up at your house today.”

“Ah, hell,” he mumbled. “I know you ain’t a stalker. You’re just drunk, Liv. You’ll feel better in the mornin’.”

“I blew it,” she said pitifully as he looped one of her arms over his neck and hoisted her from the coffee table.

“Y’ain’t blown nothin’,” he grunted. “Bedroom?”

“End of the hall. And yes I have. I have. I shoulda gave you more time and maybe you’d miss me, but instead I show up and invade your home and make you mad, and now you’re having to wrassle me into bed ‘cause I’m impulsive and dumb.”

Her stomach roiled, and she pressed a hand to it as she tried to stop her sniffling and crying.

“You’re a chatty drunk is what you are,” Daryl said. And it must’ve been the alcohol fogging her brain, because he sounded halfway amused.

“But not about nothin’ important. I know your life hasn’t been Cleaver Beaverville,” she said, ignoring his questioning look, “and I know my life must seem stupid and easy, but I don’t care what Merle says, Daryl. I think you’re my heads.”

Saliva flooded her mouth.

“Sweetheart, I ain’t got a damn clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

Her body rolled in a gag. “I’ma puke,” she said, shoving past him into the bathroom. Her knees hit the tile and she hugged the toilet, vomiting and crying harder as her body felt like it was being pulled apart from the inside.

As she waited for the next wave to hit, rough fingertips gently brushed her forehead, tangling in her hair and lifting it away from her face and neck. “Easy, girl. You’ll be all right.” Daryl rubbed circles on her back as she was sick again and again.

God in heaven, how much had she drunk? Why were there so many colors?

When she was finally empty and all that was left was the occasional dry heave, she rested her cheek against the porcelain bathtub. Daryl let go of her hair and moved to the sink, wetting a washrag with cold water. He poured a capful of Listerine and wet her toothbrush, then squeezed a strip of Crest down the head. He came back over and knelt beside her, wiping sweat and tears from her face.

“Y’look like shit,” he said, the corners of his lips flitting upward.

She smiled weakly, leaning her cheek into his palm as he cradled her face to deliver his ministrations. When she was rinsed to his liking, he passed her the toothbrush, then the mouthwash. He stood, holding his hand down to her and helping her to her feet. Her knees were shaking so badly she could scarcely walk, but he took most of her weight and led her with patient steps the rest of the way down the hallway.

He turned on her bedside lamp, pulled down her top sheet, and let her fall to the queen-size mattress. She closed her eyes and groaned as she bounced a few times and could’ve sworn she heard that rusty chuckle as he pulled off her shoes.

“I feel like you mighta learned a life lesson tonight,” he said. Boots thudded on the floor as he retreated down the hall. Running water. More clunking steps.

She cracked open her eyes to see him setting a cup of water on the table beside her bed. “You and me, we barely knew each other. Still don’t, not really.” She reached out and grabbed his fingers. “But we could. We could be friends.”

“Naw, we can’t.” He squeezed her fingers before pulling his hand away.

Tears rolled again, leaving a wet trail down to her temple. “Would it be so bad to be my friend?”

His voice was rough as ground glass when he said, “It’d be hell.”

Her face crumpled and she covered her eyes with her hand, but after a moment she inhaled deeply and gave him an uncomfortable smile. “Okay. I _am_ sorry, ya know.”

“Will be tomorrow I figure, for sure.”

“No, not about the drinking. Although, yeah.” She shook her head, grunting when the room tilted. “I’m sorry I blew this whole thing up. Guess it’s harder to stop trying to run things than I figured.”

“Go to sleep, Liv,” he said, pulling the sheet over her. “We can talk in the mornin’.”

She hooked his fingers again. “Will you stay? N-not to do anything, or because I mean anything. I just don’t wanna be alone, and Scotty’s still probably pissed about my getting drunk.”

“A’ight,” he said at length. “I’ll be on the couch.” He turned off the lamp and walked toward the door.

“Daryl?” When he looked back, she held his gaze for a beat. “Thanks again.”

He gave a short nod. “Get some sleep.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane's an ass but dammit, I like him. Merle's an ass but dammit, I like him. Rick is golden. Liv is worried. Daryl is fed up.

Someone had stuffed cotton in her mouth and glass in her eyes.

Liv cracked open one eye and shut it again with a grunt when light pierced her skull. She kicked off her sheet and sat up slowly, frowning down at her clothes. She never went to bed in her wearing clothes. She must’ve drunk more than she thought. She tried to remember what’d happened, but once she started dancing, it all got real fuzzy. She vaguely remembered playing darts with Paul and trying to coerce Karen into singing “Mama Tried” with her. Pretty sure she threw up at some point, given the rawness in her throat. But other than that…it was a mess.

She pushed herself up and practically dragged herself to the bathroom, stripping her clothes as she went. She turned on the shower and adjusted the water temp, then stepped inside. She stayed beneath the spray until the water ran cool, just taking the time to wash away all the aches and lethargy and general stickiness of the night before. She washed her hair, then turned off the water and got out. She twisted a towel around her hair, debated on blow drying it, but decided the noise would make her head explode. She brushed her teeth and stepped into a pair of pj shorts that had the word HAPPY written across the butt. She debated putting on a shirt, but decided it was just too much work. She was flushed anyway.

Feeling a little more alive, she shuffled down the hallway, flipping on the air conditioner as she passed. She needed to eat, but the thought of cooking anything made her groan aloud. She was out of milk, so no cereal. A pack of crackers lay on the coffee table from where she’d had a takeout salad from the diner a few days before.

Good enough.

She sat on the couch and ate a cracker, then lay down and buried her face in a pillow, letting the cool air from the vent blow over her back. Her cell phone started ringing, the sound faint. Must be in her room. Whoever it was could wait.

The front door opened behind her and slashes of sunlight warmed her calves and thighs. “Shut the door, Scotty,” she grumped, not opening her eyes.

“Hey.”

Her eyes popped wide at the deep voice. Her brain immediately tried to explain it away. Scott must have a cold. That’s why his voice was so low, so gravelly. Yeah, that was it.

“Your brother brought your purse,” Daryl said. “Said your phone’s been ringing like crazy.” He sat the bag on the table next to her, along with a bottle of Gatorade. “Got ya that. You, uh, should drink it since you puked so much.”

Like a switch flipping, much of the night came rushing back. Daryl showing up at closing, taking her home. Her crying. His holding her hair and cleaning her up after she was sick.

If the universe was a fair place, the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“Thanks,” she croaked. She hadn’t moved—couldn’t, thanks to her hangover-induced laziness—but she could see his face, the way his eyes roved her body. He caught her looking and his cheeks tinted a bit. “Could you hand me…” She pointed at the plaid throw blanket draped on the old rocking chair.

He passed it to her and she waited for him to turn around so she could sit up, but he didn’t. Guess he figured he’d seen her tits before, so it wasn’t a big deal. She sat up clumsily and wrapped the blanket around herself like a toga. He sat on the other end of the couch and worried the inside of his cheek.

“Y’eat anything?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Cracker. Not really hungry,” she said. She picked at her fingertips nervously. “Um…I don’t really remember much about last night.”

“I didn’t try to screw you or anything.”

She blinked at him. “Yeah, I sorta figured that. You’ve made your position on that issue abundantly clear.”

_Would it be so bad to just be my friend?_

_It’d be hell._

“You said you wanted to talk.” He spread his hands. “I’m here.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I told you twice now,” he said quietly, reaching over to tuck a lock of damp hair behind her ear. “Nothin’ to say.”

She nodded and sighed. “A’ight, then.” She offered a small smile. “But I’m gonna kiss you one more time, Daryl Dixon, ‘fore we say bye.”

He sat ramrod straight as she scooted closer and cupped his cheek, pressed her lips to his. Soft and easy, the sweet sadness of goodbye. When she pulled back, she brushed her thumb over a small scar on his cheekbone before dropping her hand.

“It ain’t you, ya know.” He spoke to her throat, not meeting her eyes. “I got a darkness in me. Always have, since I was a kid.”

“Because of what gave you those scars?” The muscle in his jaw ticked, and he nodded once. “You ain’t your past, Daryl.”

“You don’t know nothin’ about it,” he said, voice going even deeper.

“You’re right. I don’t. Can’t even imagine. But—hey,” she said, ducking her head and drawing his gaze. “You ain’t your daddy.”

She’d read between the lines of Merle’s words, knew by the way Daryl’s eyes darted away that she’d inferred correctly. Their own father had been the one to scar them up like that. Merle’s scars were bad enough, but the thick, dark streaks on Daryl’s back were vicious. The handiwork of a monster.

“You don’t know what I am,” he said. “Hell, me ‘n’ Merle, ain’t neither of us ever been worth a shit. But you got you a good family, friends. You ain’t got any business runnin’ with the likes of me. I thought maybe…” He shook his head. “I ain’t the type to change, Liv. And I ain’t gonna stick around ‘til you look at me like I’m some kinda bastard.”

“I don’t know what it was like growing up the way you did. What _he_ was like. And our relationship or whatever just sorta sprang up quick, so maybe I don’t know anything about what you were doin’ before you rolled into town.” She put a hand on his knee. “But what I do know is what matters to me, Daryl. You’re stubborn and angry and proud, and you can be a gigantic pain in the ass.” She took the sting out of the words by flashing a smile. “But you’re a kind man, a _good_ man.”

“Jesus, girl.” He stood, putting some distance between them. He shook his head, gnawing his lip in agitation. “It turns me on to hit women, to see the marks I make on ‘em. That ain’t kind. It damn sure ain’t good.”

“You don’t hit to be mean,” she said. “You ever forced anybody to sleep with you?”

He glowered at her. “Fuck no.”

“You ever hit a woman out of anger?”

“Liv—”

“Answer me,” she said.

“No. But I could. And it wouldn’t bother me at all, if I’s mad enough.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said simply. “The day you left the tavern, you were mad. I yelled right back when you yelled at me. Did you want to hit me?” At his petulant silence, she stood and tugged the blanket under her arms. “You were mad, but you looked scared when you found out I’d never had sex before. Wait—” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “First thing you brought up was being worried about what you mighta done to hurt me if we’d ever gone that far.”

“Because I thought you were like me,” he said, slapping a hand against his chest. “I took you out to the lake and did what I did ‘cause I thought you was just as fucked up as I am.”

“You’re not—”

“Livia, I strapped you down like some kinda whore. Bit you, marked you up.” He shook his head again. “You didn’t deserve it, but there’s nothin’ I can do to change it. I took control away from you, made the choice for you, ‘cause that’s what I do.”

“Don’t you get it? I relished every friggin’ second of that night,” she said, exasperated. “That’s what I’m sayin’, Daryl. You have your reasons for needing to take charge, to call the shots. They’re deep and personal, and that’s okay. I don’t have to know all about ‘em.” He shifted uncomfortably and she laid a hand on his arm. “It doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. Just like there’s nothin’ wrong with being a virgin but lovin’ being strapped down or the thought of you markin’ me up again. You didn’t _take_ anything from me that I didn’t give. And I’d do it again without a second thought.”

He kept still save for the unconscious clenching and unclenching of his fists, eyes locked on her shoulder. Now that she’d gotten it all out, the silence of the house weighed on her. She pursed her lips.

“So…um…anyway, if you ever want to give us a chance again, you know where to find me.” Her cell phone rang from her purse, startling them both. She answered it.

“Hey, Liv. Biscuit’s in labor. Daddy wants to know if you’re still coming to help him with the puppies.”

“Yeah, Beth. I’ll be there shortly.”

“A’ight. Bye.”

She hung up and tapped the phone in her palm. “I gotta go put on some real clothes.”

He nodded and walked around her—giving wide berth, she noticed—and headed for the door. “I’ll see ya.”

“Okay. And thanks again for last night.”

He opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. “C’mon by the house when you’re done with that girl’s dog. We’ll talk some more.” With one last look over his shoulder, he opened the door and stepped into the morning sun.

\--

Liv left the Greenes with six mutt puppies cuddled up to their mama. Beth had stuck around for most of the birth, but Maggie had taken one look at the goop and dashed outside, still a little too hungover to be around. Liv was proud she hadn’t gotten sick herself. She’d gagged a few times, which she’d tried to hide, but Hershel was as shrewd as the day was long, so he’d seen. And he’d decided she needed to deliver the pups herself, seeing as she was learning the trade, and all. Jerk. She’d soldiered on, though, mostly to show him she could, and then rushed back home to shower and change before heading to the Hollow.

The late afternoon sunlight dappled the road through the canopy of leaves. Butterflies tickled her stomach—she’d been invited to the trailer. They were going to talk. _Daryl_ was going to talk.

She flipped on her blinker and prepared to turn into the long gravel drive that led to the Hollow just as an ambulance came screaming out. Two police cars followed. Icy fingers of dread tingled down her spine, freezing and murdering the butterflies that had fluttered happily moments before. She turned, shooting rocks as she rocketed up the driveway. Four sheriff cruisers were parked in front of a group of trailers.

She got out of the car and rushed to the police tape, ducking under without hesitation. Shane was talking to a young Mexican man who was gesturing toward the trailers. She followed his pointing finger, gasping at the bullet holes sprayed into the sides.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Rick said from behind her. “This is a crime scene.”

“I was coming to see Daryl,” she said, looking around frantically. “Was supposed to meet him here.”

“Liv. Liv,” Rick said, stepping into her line of sight and taking her by the shoulders. “He went to the hospital.”

“Is he—”

“He’s fine,” he hurried to assure her. He squeezed her shoulders before releasing her. “His brother caught a stray, though, and had to get looked at.”

She relaxed a bit, letting him guide her back to the police line. “What happened? Do you know yet?”

“Looks drug-related. Some of the dealers from the Hollow got in bad with the Saviors. Looks like it followed ‘em home.”

“Holy hell.” The Saviors ran roughshod over the surrounding area. Even in their little hole-in-the-wall town, people knew who the Saviors were. “Merle Dixon?”

Rick shook his head. “Near as I can tell, Dixon just picked the wrong time to step out for a smoke. With his record, I’da bet my hat he’d been involved, but witnesses say no. He looks clean in all this.”

Doubtful. She’d seen how Merle had treated his living space, like a friggin’ coyote den. He wouldn’t have stepped outside to smoke. “But Merle does have a record,” she verified.

Rick looked at her with his head cocked to the side, the way he did when he was trying to figure something out. “Yeah. He just got out a few days ago. Daryl went and got him since he’s still got a couple weeks left on his probationary release.” He stepped closer. “You know something about Merle Dixon I should know about?”

“I don’t know anything about him, to be honest.”

Shane leaned between them and passed Rick a clipboard. “Witness statements.” He looked at her. “That’s one helluva cherry-poppin’ daddy you got for yourself, Liv.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

“Hey, all’s I’m sayin’ is it’s plain as day Merle Dixon was involved in this somehow. Only stands to reason his brother was too. Merle’s record don’t lie. Distribution of drugs, drug possession, weapons possession, assault. He’s known to run drugs, and everybody in 100 miles of Atlanta knows the Saviors don’t take kindly to outsiders sniffing around their domain. Negan runs towns like some kinda mafia don, terrorizing business owners into buying protection from his boys and bumping off anybody who stands in his way. Buddy of mine outta EGCF says Negan and his crew razed half of Woodbury to the ground just ‘cause the cops arrested one of them.”

“All that ain’t got nothing to do with Daryl.”

“Maybe he’s just better at not getting pinched than his brother is.”

“There isn’t any evidence the Dixons are involved,” Rick interjected, passing Shane the clipboard again. “You follow these leads. Unless someone comes forward and says otherwise, we got a handful of people says Merle Dixon was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He took Liv’s arm and walked her to her car. “You going to the hospital?”

“Yeah. Just wanna see if they need anything.”

Rick sighed. “House is a crime scene. Tell Daryl he’s gonna have to be put out a few days. Tell him come see me at the station and he can get some clothes and stuff.” He tapped the top of the car with his thumb. “We’re gonna have to search the trailer, ya know.”

She gave him a questioning look. “Okay?”

“If we turn up anything, any drugs or anything, we’ll have to start investigating the Dixons. Both of ‘em.”

She nodded. He was letting her know that he was going to do his job, regardless of who was involved. And if they had reason to suspect Daryl, then maybe she’d have to be investigated, too. “I understand.”

“Be careful, Livvy. All right?”

“I will be.”

She got in the car just as Shane reached her. He perched a hand on the door, leaning in through the open window. “Hey, listen. I know you and me ain’t ever been on great terms, but just listen to me a minute, a’right? These guys, these Saviors, they’re bad dudes, Liv. Real bad.”

“I know, Shane.”

“They killed some doctor last year who was dealin’ on the side. Beat him to death and strung him up from a bridge. Merle comin’ out here, then this happening…he’s a target for Negan. And if Merle’s a target, so is Daryl, even if he’s just collateral damage. You see where I’m goin’ with this?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Now I know you think I’m some kinda asshole, Livvy, but me and you go way back. I don’t want to have to tell your folks you ended up like that, dead ‘cause of the likes of Daryl Dixon. I don’t wanna see that.”

She nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

He looked at her hard, and she could tell he wanted to say more, that he wasn’t happy with her not saying right then that she wasn’t going to associate with the Dixons anymore, but he just pushed away from the car. “See you do, a’ight?”

Shane’s concern shook her up a bit, but mostly for Daryl. Not because this drug war mess couldn’t bleed over and affect her, too, but because Daryl wouldn’t knowingly let his brother go into harm’s way without being there to have his back. He’d taken Merle in, put up with his shit for a reason.

She stopped off at Patty’s Diner and grabbed a couple of burgers to take to the hospital in case Merle could eat. She didn’t know how badly he was hurt, but Rick didn’t act like it was anything life-threatening.

By the time she got there, her hands were clammy and her stomach wobbled. She asked the nurse at the station about the gunshot from the Hollow, and she gave her the room number. The door was barely open, just enough that she could hear the hushed voices arguing inside.

“—cleanin’ up your shit again. You’re still on probation. The fuck happened to layin’ low a spell? That was my house, Merle.”

Merle sucked his teeth. “Seems t’me you forgot what brought you to town in the first place, little brother. Maybe this bullet I took’ll be a reminder.”

“I ain’t hit Negan’s business. Your gettin’ shot ain’t on me.”

“You come out here to set up shop, hit Negan’s Oxy. You live here now. Ain’t a stretch for him to figure that’s what you were gettin’ up to.”

“You went back inside and I trashed your bullshit plan. I ain’t made a move against the Saviors,” Daryl said again. “I ain’t suicidal.”

Merle apparently wasn’t listening, just kept on talking like Daryl hadn’t said anything. “I got us some business lined up we go back to Atlanta. All goes right, we’ll be livin’ the high life awhile.”

“Maybe I ain’t goin’ back to Atlanta.”

“What, you’re gonna stay here? Keep workin’ as some nobody grease monkey? Got you some pussy, so you’re a big man all a sudden.” Merle wheezed a laugh. “What happens to that cute li’l redhead when Negan comes lookin’ for you?”

“I only got roped into this shit ‘cause of you. I ain’t nothin’ to Negan.”

“You ain’t nothin’ to nobody,” Merle hissed. “Nobody but me. You keep that in mind when you’re buried balls-deep in that pretty little girl of yourn. It’s just you and me, little brother. Same as always.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Daryl’s voice was quiet, but Merle’s answering silence was deafening. Liv inched closer to the door.

“What you sayin’, boy?”

“I’m sayin’ maybe I’m done takin’ belts and bricks for you just ‘cause you ain’t around.”

Another loaded silence. “Always comes back to the old man, don’t it? I didn’t know—”

“Yeah ya did!” Daryl’s voice rose to a shout, making Liv jump. When he spoke again, he was hushed. “Ya did, ‘cause he did the same to you. And you left. You left me there.”

“I had to get out, man. I’da killed that sumbitch if I hadn’t.”

There was a quality in Merle’s voice that almost made Liv feel sympathy for him. She leaned forward and peeked through the crack in the door. Merle was sweating, something akin to panic on his features.

“Look, I got you out, didn’t I? Snot-nosed kid, fourteen years old, and I took you in. Been me and you ever since and—where you goin’?”

Liv backed away from the door, so she didn’t hear Daryl’s reply. He rushed from the room a second later, looking stormy. His expression lightened just a bit when he saw her. She held up the bag of burgers with a shaking hand and forced an unsteady smile.

“You wanted to get out of talking, coulda just texted,” she teased. It would’ve sounded more lighthearted if her throat hadn’t clenched around the words.

His arms went around her and he crushed her to him, catching her off-guard much like she had him that first night in the parking lot. He didn’t kiss her, though. Just rested his face against her hair as she buried her forehead in his throat.

She pulled back, cradling his face between her hands. “Are you okay, though? How’s Merle? You aren’t hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, shrugging out of her hold and shifting on his feet. “I didn’t get there ‘til after.” He cleared his throat. “Gotta go see if I can get in my house.”

“It’s a crime scene. Rick says see him at the station and he’ll take you to get clothes, but you’ll have to find a place a few days. You can…I mean, if you want…I have a couch.”

He swallowed and his eyes flicked down to her mouth. “Appreciate it. S’nice couch.”

She smiled briefly, then sobered. “Um, I know Merle only got caught in the crossfire,” she said, noting how his features darkened, “but since he got shot at your house, there’ll, um, have to be a search.”

He stiffened. “So?”

“So if he has anything in there that maybe he shouldn’t have…?”

“He don’t.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Flushed it when I made sure he wasn’t dead on my porch.”

“Here,” she said, shoving the burgers at him so she could fish around in her purse. She pulled out her spare house key and took the burgers back. “For in case I’m out when you get home—um, to the house.” She waved toward the room. “Merle awake? I brought him some food, if the docs are letting him have it.”

He looked like he wasn’t thrilled at the idea. “Like I said, I gotta go try to get some stuff from the house.”

“I can handle him, ya know. He gets too lippy and I’ll pull the plug.”

One side of his mouth hitched. “Probably won’t be nice.”

“Wasn’t real nice last time.” She shrugged. “Think he thought he was, in his own way.”

“A’ight then. I’ll see ya tonight.”

“Okay. We still havin’ that talk?” She mentally winced. His trailer had just been destroyed and was a crime scene, his brother was in the hospital with a gunshot, and somehow the two of them were tangled up with some incredibly dangerous drug dealers. In the grand scheme of things, the month-long relationship he’d had with her was probably the furthest thing from his mind.

But he nodded. “Yeah. Got some things to think about. I’ll see ya.”

She went to Merle’s room and pushed the door open, rapping twice as she entered. “Room service.”

He glared at her. “The fuck you doin’ here?”

“Brought you some food.” She sat the sack on the bedside table. “Wanna talk to you.”

“You the talkin’est bitch I ever seen.” He rubbed his neck, wincing when he bumped the pad on his wounded shoulder. “Case you missed it, I got a bullet in me today. So ‘scuse me if I ain’t in the mood to shoot the shit.”

“You don’t have to talk. It’s preferable, actually.” She folded her arms and leaned against the bedrail. “The Saviors were at the Hollow for you, weren’t they?”

“That’s news to me, honeybee. ‘Cording to the neighbors, there were some bad men living in the trailer right next door. I only went outside to smoke me a cigarette.”

“Cut the crap, Merle,” she said. “You aren’t the only one who can read a person. See, the way I figure it, you’re a smart man—”

“Flattery’ll get you everything,” he interrupted with a lecherous grin. All show. All forced.

“I think if I were you, it’d seem a smart move to get set up in some nowhere town where Negan’s got dealers, maybe rip ‘em off. Start sellin’ it yourself, seeing you got connections all around Atlanta. You get a cut of Negan’s trade, then parlay and join up with him. How’m I doin’ so far?”

“Well, Raggedy Ann, it’s a better story than _Twilight_.”

“Glad you think so. But here’s the second part. I don’t think a guy like Negan would take real kindly to being manipulated like that.”

She’d read the story of that murdered doctor when it had been in the paper, saw the pictures of Negan when the state cops brought him in for questioning. He’d been confident, smart. Charismatic, even. Just another case of judgmental cops picking on a motorcycle club. There’d been no evidence against his MC other than the testimony of an unreliable witness—the doctor’s drug-addicted patient—and a grainy surveillance video that showed a motorcycle driving away moments after the doctor was killed. Negan had been released, his Saviors cleared, and they’d resumed running towns full of people too afraid to speak up. There was no way in hell that a man like that would get into business with Merle.

“What would you have done if Daryl’d been there when they showed up?” she asked.

He watched her for a long moment. No façade. No performance or posturing. Just his eyes, sunken and dull, holding hers. He looked tired all the way down to his soul. “Daryl knows how the game’s played.”

“Not when the stakes are your lives. You told me you’re all he’s got. But he’s all you got, too. So why the hell can’t you just walk away?” Her brows furrowed and she tilted her head, silently pleading him to listen. “Just for once in your life make a good decision and walk away?”

“And do what?” His voice didn’t change, stayed at the same quiet pitch he’d been using, but each word was delivered with the force of a punch.

“Get clean? Live the rest of your life where jail ain’t got a revolving door?”

His eyes went distant, as if he were genuinely contemplating the choice. Then he seemed to shake himself and gave her a half-grin. “Li’l sister, I chose my path a long, long time ago. Fate saw to it I stayed on it.” He snatched the bag from beside him and sat it on his tray table, unwrapping a burger. He took a huge bite and chewed messily. “Ain’t no other way for Ol’ Merle to go now. Just gotta keep fallin’ ‘til I meet my abrupt end.”

“And take Daryl down with you?”

“He’s a big boy. He don’t wanna work with me, he ain’t gotta. Been alone before.”

“You know he won’t leave you by yourself, regardless of how stupid your plan is—or because of it.”

Merle shrugged. “That’s on him then, ain’t it?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time. Gentle Daryl. Sassy Liv.

When she left the hospital—after she’d seriously considered shoving her finger into Merle Dixon’s bullet hole—Liv went to help Scotty unload and stack inventory for the tavern. He didn’t mention her behavior from the previous night, thankfully, and they worked with normal conversation. She could tell something was bother him though, so while he rolled in a stack of cases, she hopped onto the deep freeze and dangled her feet.

“What’s goin’ on with you?”

He shrugged. “Nothin’. What’s goin’ on with you?”

“Nothin’. But you’re acting weird.”

He shrugged again, then rested the dolly and leaned against it. “Daryl spent the night with you last night.”

It wasn’t a question. She swung her feet. “Yeah.”

Scotty’s face darkened. “You were drunk. Shitfaced.”

“I know. And I puked everywhere. He kept an eye on me’s all.” She raised her eyebrows. “Wait…is this a protective brother thing? Worried about somebody taking advantage of me?”

“Well, hell, Liv,” Scotty said, kicking the dolly back. “Ain’t like it’s never happened before. I mean, I see the way you two are. I just didn’t want him to’ve exploited it last night, since I’m the one who told him to take you home.”

Liv laughed. It ruffled Scotty’s feathers, but she couldn’t help it. “Scotty, I love you.”

“Suck dirt,” he grumbled.

She hopped from the freezer and caught him in a hug. “I do, I love ya. And I don’t want you to go apoplectic when it happens, but I’m gonna have sex. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but at some point. And it’s gonna be with Daryl, the way it’s looking.”

“First of all, don’t tell me shit like that,” he said, pulling a face and shrugging out of her hug. “Second, I don’t know I’ll get comfortable with the notion of my little sister having sex with someone I see damn-near every day. It’s weird.”

“Fully grown woman,” she said, waving a hand in her own direction. “Not fifteen anymore.”

“Still older,” he countered, copying her motion. He grinned and shook his head, then took a fighting stance and threw a couple playful punches, nudging her with his fists. “Mama’s gonna shit kittens she finds out you been dancin’ in the devil’s garden.”

“You gonna tell on me?” She swatted at him, blocking.

Scotty laughed. “Like I need to? Livvy, in this town, Daryl’s jizz won’t have dried ‘fore somebody calls Mama.”

“Gross! Shut up!” she shouted, ducking and shoving his shoulder. “Okay, I’ma go home. You need anything before I leave?”

“Nah, I got it. You coming to work tomorrow night?”

“Prolly.” She pulled the door shut behind her and crossed the lot to her house.

As soon as she entered, she toed off her sneakers and flipped on a lamp—and nearly shot out of her skin at the sight of Daryl sitting in the old rocker across the room. “Jesus H. Christ, Daryl Dixon!” she hollered, slamming a hand against her chest. “You never seen _Salem’s Lot_? Don’t do shit like that!” She dropped her arms and huffed out a chuckle. He smiled at her, a flash of white teeth in the low light. “I wasn’t expecting you’d be here yet.”

“’parently.”

He rose from the chair and Liv couldn’t help noticing how right he looked standing in her living room, barefoot and at ease. She swallowed and cleared her throat, setting her stuff on the desk beside the door. “You hungry?”

His blue eyes sparked, and he nodded, mouth crooking in a way that had her fidgeting.

“I could make some dinner?” She moved toward the kitchen, tripping over the corner of the area rug. She muttered a curse. _Smooth, Liv_.

“Nah,” he said, coming toward her with slow, measured steps. Eyes never leaving her. “Think we can find a better way to pass the time.”

_Hoo boy_. “I’m…er…I didn’t…when I invited you to stay…” she stammered. “I’m not expecting anything. You said you wanted to think a bit. And I respect—”

“Thought about it. Took ‘bout five minutes.” He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest and chewed his lip. “You scared of me all-a sudden?” he asked lightly.

“No,” she said. “I just—you’ve had a helluva day.”

He nodded once. “And I ain’t been able to think about anything but havin’ you. Ain’t that a helluva thing?”

“Oh. Um…well,” she said with a nervous half-laugh. She shrugged and held out her arms, taking a step toward him. Few more feet and they’d be close enough to touch. “Where you want me?”

“Everywhere.”

_Hoooo_ _boy_. “That’s…that’s a good answer,” she breathed. She closed the distance in two steps, meeting his mouth and gripping his neck, holding him to her as their tongues danced and tangled in slick greeting. She moved to back herself to the sofa, dragging him with her. “Mmm. Dar—_oof_!” She misjudged the distance between the couch and the coffee table and nearly fell over backward.

His arms came around her, steadying her, and he nipped playfully at her jaw. “Damn, woman. Best get you to bed ‘fore you kill yourself.”

“Well then what’re we still doin’ here?” She gripped his wrists and tugged herself out of the circle of his arms, then pulled him toward the bedroom. Once there, she kicked through and turned to him again, lifting onto tiptoes and catching his mouth once more.

He gripped her hips, squeezing, sliding hands to her ass and then back up her sides, around to cup her breasts. Liv gasped into his mouth, and he pulled back. “I do anything you don’t like, you say so, y’hear?”

She nodded, cheeks pinkening. “You ever done this kinda thing before?”

He scoffed. “I fucked women all over Georgia,” he said, lowering his eyes. “Picked up in bars and stuff when me and Merle’d ride out.”

“Yeah, you…_fucked_ them,” she said, blush deepening. “But you ever done this? When it maybe counted as something?”

“Never came up.” He shrugged.

Her face broke in a huge smile. “So you’re sorta a virgin too. Think about it,” she insisted when he looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “They basically served the same purpose as the vibrators in the top drawer of my bedside table. So that don’t count.”

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips tracing her jawline. “Girl, you ain’t got a lick of sense sometimes,” he said with a crooked smile. He sobered as his fingers trailed down her throat to the buttons of her blouse. “What you want me to do?”

“I’m guessing handcuffs and massage oil’s outta the question?” She pursed her lips at his unamused look. “Right. Okay, what I want is for you to be comfortable with me.”

“M’comfortable.”

“Good. Because I want to explore. Slowly,” she said, slipping her hands beneath his soft, worn t-shirt. “Thoroughly. Inch by inch.” She pushed the soft cotton up and he lifted his arms, helping her get it over his head. She kissed his neck and unfastened his belt. “Feel like I need to, being my first time and all. Need to be aware of what I’m working with.”

Daryl made a rough sound deep in his throat, which she assumed was agreement. He brought his hands up to rest on her shoulders, thumbs brushing lightly over either side of her neck as she dipped her head and tasted his chest. She ran her hands over him, nails scraping lightly, sucking her bottom lip to bite back a smile when his muscles trembled beneath her fingers.

“Feels good,” he murmured. He watched her closely, eyes clear and focused on each movement.

“I’s gonna say the same thing.” She stepped to move around to his back, but he caught her arm. She held his gaze, arched a brow. “Tonight isn’t just about me, you know,” she said, lifting a hand to his cheek. “If we’re really startin’ something here—something that’s deeper than just pawing in a dark parking lot—you’re gonna have to trust me, Daryl.” She touched her lips to his shoulder, whispering against his skin. “Please?”

His throat worked to swallow, but he released her to continue her attentions. She rounded to his back and pressed a kiss to his tattoo. He shivered. She reached up and gently touched the thick scar that ran along his left shoulder blade, giving the skin of his back the same careful attention she gave his chest. She trailed her hands down his sides to his hips, and around, then deftly unbuttoned his jeans. She slipped her hands beneath the band, cupping him at the same time she flicked her tongue over an intersection of scars. His cock jumped beneath her fingers even as his shoulders tensed beneath her lips.

“Liv…” His voice was a hushed rumble, strained and almost pleading.

She danced her fingers up and over his hips, hooking her thumbs in his waistband. She kissed each scar, taking his jeans and boxers down as she went lower and lower. As her lips brushed the slash of purple at the base of his spine, he turned and heaved her into his arms. She didn’t protest. He’d given her far more than she’d asked for by allowing her to touch him like that, and she felt like she might be glowing.

He sat her on the bed and his fingers went to fast work to undo the buttons on her shirt as his mouth fused to hers. She cupped his face, relishing the feel of his lips and tongue. His rough palms were careful as he pushed her shirt from her shoulders, and he followed the material’s descent with his mouth as she had done him.

“Too slow,” she breathed, eyes falling shut as his teeth scraped the top of her breast.

“Got to.” His voice was ragged as he touched her through her bra. “Can’t go any faster without…” He pulled her nipple into his mouth, the rasp of his tongue through the lace making her arch. His hands went to her back and unclasped her bra, tossing it away as his lips reclaimed her breast.

He was being gentle, cautious, and she could tell it was taking its toll. He was shaking with the effort to hold himself back, to keep from becoming the animal he believed himself to be.

She gently pushed against his shoulders. He straightened immediately and took a step away, breathing hard. He looked concerned, but when she stood and undid her jeans, shimmying out of them and kicking them away, he raked a hand through his hair and his eyes fixed on the green and black lace that adorned her hips.

“No,” he said, catching her hand when she moved to take off her underwear. He lifted it, licked the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. Placed a kiss to her palm. “Leave ‘em.” He grinned, a tinge of dark mischief in it. “Lay down.”

She hopped onto the bed, crab-walked to the middle as a sliver of raw lust shot through her. A man—quite possibly _the_ man—stood naked and hard and beautiful at the edge of the bed, looking ready to pounce and swallow her, so open was the hunger in his gaze. Yet when he grabbed her ankles, his touch was tender.

_A sheep in big bad wolf’s clothing_, she thought.

He spread her legs and knelt between them, crawling slowly up the bed, giving her knees and thighs little biting kisses that made her hips roll. She reached for him, kneaded his strong shoulders, but he took her wrists and pinned them over her head.

“Keep ‘em there.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she said, lowering her voice to mimic his growl.

“That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble one day, girl.” But he was smiling when he dipped his head and sucked hard on her nipple.

She tucked her chin and watched him glide down her body, touching and tasting. Tit for tat. When he hovered over the scrap of lace between her thighs, he rolled his eyes up to meet hers. Her hips lifted in silent encouragement and she bit her lip. His warm breath fanned over her, making her squirm and whisper his name.

He lowered his mouth, delivering a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her core. Her fingers clutched the sheet above her head, but she didn’t lower her hands. Breath left in a rush and her head fell back, her eyes clenching shut.

He was thorough. If the tongue-on-lace combo on her breast had felt incredible, this was heaven. And when he used a finger to tug the lace aside and his nimble tongue touched her naked flesh, she cried out in anguished bliss.

She lowered her hands.

They fisted in his hair, tugging the dark strands, urging him closer. He obliged, pausing just long enough to jerk her underwear down her legs so that he could gain full access to the treasure beneath. She rode his mouth, scraping her body against him until she felt the beginnings of an orgasm stirring.

“Shit. Shitshitshit—_oh_!”

He sucked her clit at the same time he slid a finger inside her, and she shattered. Yet still he lapped at her, his tongue and lips and teeth sending flashes of residual ecstasy throbbing through every bone, every muscle in her body.

He backed away and left the bed. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“S’matter?” she panted, lifting her head.

“Condom.” He was searching his jeans.

She fell back. “Top drawer, bedside table. Nevermind the arsenal,” she added, seeing his eyebrows wing up when he opened the drawer. He pulled out a string of condoms and arched a questioning brow. She grinned. “I had high hopes for the Peanut Festival.” She shrugged, saw his eyes flick to her chest when the motion made her breasts bounce.

She licked her lips when he gripped himself in one hand and used his teeth to open the foil wrapper. He slipped the condom on quickly and moved again to the bed. She sighed when he settled over her, welcoming his warm weight. He propped up on one hand, used the other to guide himself to where he needed to be. He slicked himself up her folds, making her legs clench.

“Dammit, Daryl. I need—you gotta…” She panted and writhed, trying to get him seated, but he held back.

“Wrap your legs ‘round me,” he instructed.

She obeyed immediately, locking her gaze with his. She smoothed her hands up his shoulders again—Jesus, would she ever tire of the feel of them?—and linked her fingers behind his neck. “Please,” she whispered. “Now, Daryl. Please.”

“Lookit you,” he said. “Beggin’ for my cock.” There was something like awe in his voice, but Liv didn’t dwell. She lifted her head and kissed him, sucking his tongue. He braced himself on both hands and inched forward with a slow rock of his hips.

All her life, Liv had heard horror stories about the unpleasantness of first-time sex. And while there was a second of uncomfortable pressure, there was no pain. Only heat. The heat of his skin, the heat of her body…warm and molten, like melted gold. She fell back on an exhale, her body bowing.

Daryl shook beneath her hands, his face pinched and his eyes squinted as if in pain.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “Gotta give you…time…”

She buried her fingers in his hair and stroked the other hand across his back, pressing him forward and biting her lip as delicious friction took her breath.

“Okay?”

“God, yes.” She nodded, lifting her hips slightly to reassure him.

He slid back, then thrust forward again, building a steady measure that she soon matched. They moved together, licking at each other’s mouths and jaws and throats, anywhere that could be reached and tasted without disrupting the rhythm they made.

She felt the pressure building and unconsciously dug her nails into his back, scraping at his flesh. She knew she was making frantic noises, babbling nonsensical things. Swearing a blue streak. She knew, but she didn’t care. Because Daryl was making those same animal sounds and dropping eff-bombs like they were prayers.

He reached between them and ran the pad of his finger over her clit, circling, matching it to the stirring of his hips. “C’mon, Liv. C’mon, girl. Scream for me.”

She clung to him, thighs and arms and fingernails.

And teeth.

As another orgasm ripped through her, she screamed and bit the juncture of his neck and shoulder, unable to stop herself. Daryl came with a hoarse cry, clenching his eyes shut and ducking to press his cheek to hers.

As their breathing slowed and the tremors of pleasure receded to gentle waves, Liv released his shoulder and Daryl collapsed on top of her with a sigh. They lay like that a moment, then he rolled away to dispose of the condom. He was back before she’d caught her breath completely, and he leaned down to give her a sweet kiss before toppling onto his back.

“Fuck me,” he panted.

She lifted the arm she’d draped over her eyes and looked at him. She smiled from her head to her toes, and each delightful ache just made her happiness burn brighter. “Don’t mind if I do.”

He gave her a side-eye and grinned, huffing out a long exhale. “Your bed’s wrecked.”

“Should be. We worked hard.”

He reached over her and grabbed the corner of the comforter that was still on the bed, dragging it over them. He rolled onto his side, much like he had The Night at the Lake, and gathered her close, securing an arm around her waist.

Liv idly stroked his arm from elbow to fingertips. She felt his heartbeat against her back and his breath slowly even out as it lightly fanned over her neck.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl goes home. Shower sex.

Later, when Daryl had gone to the hospital to check on Merle and see when Rick would let him back in his house, Liv dressed and crossed the road to look in on Scotty. He was behind the bar, filling out purchase orders for the next month.

“Good morning.”

He looked up and checked his watch. “It’s 2:16 in the afternoon. And I ain’t talking to you.”

She frowned, plopping on a stool across from him. “What’d I do now?”

“Mama called me this morning and ripped me a new asshole because you and some man were foolin’ around on your porch in front of God and everybody.”

Liv rolled her eyes. “I knew that’s how it’d end up, soon as I saw Dale.”

“I had to assure her that Dale was mistaken and that you were not, in fact, committing indiscretions with a drug dealer from the Holler.” He pinned her with a steady gaze, eyebrows raised. “That’s accurate information, right?”

“Yes, it is. Daryl isn’t a drug dealer.”

“Is his brother?”

“I’m not committing indiscretions with his brother.”

“Dammit, Liv,” Scotty snapped, throwing his pen onto the bar. “It’s all over town what happened out on East End yesterday. The Saviors don’t fuck around. If this asshole’s putting you in danger or gonna get you in trouble—”

“Daryl and Merle weren’t involved, Rick said.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Rick _had_ said they weren’t involved, even if she knew otherwise. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? You sure? Because it looks to me like your letting yourself get used by a possible criminal.”

“Don’t start, Scotty.” Liv slouched on the bar and propped her chin on her fist.

“What the hell is that?” All business now, Scotty leaned across the bar and took her hand, pulling her closer and examining the bruises on her wrist. Her brother’s eyes were stormy. “I’m gonna kill that sumbitch.”

“Stop,” Liv said, tugging away from him. “Knock it off, now. Dammit, you know well enough that I wouldn’t be foolin’ around with some abusive—”

“I want to think Daryl wouldn’t be like that,” Scotty interrupted. “But you look me in the face, right now, and tell me he don’t rough you up.”

Oh boy. Her cheeks warmed a bit and she chewed her lip. “Er…um…” She jumped when Scotty slammed his palm down on the counter and cursed. She waved her hands at him, trying to stem his anger. “No, no! Scotty, no. It’s not like—”

The vein in Scotty’s forehead was standing out prominently, a sure sign he was fit to be tied. “You tell me why you show up with bruises and why you can’t look me in the eye and say he’s never raised a hand to you. Because I mighta been some dumb jock in high school, but I remember that one and one make two.”

“He…we…” She grimaced and sighed. “I asked for it.”

The vein pulsed. “Would you listen to yourself? Jesus Christ, Livvy! He’s got you so twisted up—”

“No, Scotty. No. I mean literally _asked_ for it.” She soldiered on when Scotty blinked at her. “And these aren’t from him roughing me up,” she said, waving her wrist. “We were engaged in a bout of very enthusiastic sex, and—”

Scotty made a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a gag, shaking his head. “Whoa. No. Stop right there,” he said, but she kept going.

“—things got…vigorous…so yes, I have bruises.” She noted the way he paled and decided to give him a little extra ribbing. He was, after all, being a complete nitwit. “All of ‘em hard-earned and well-deserved.”

“Liv—”

“And oh my God, is it possible to break your vagina? Ho ho _ho_. We did this one thing—”

“Please stop,” Scotty pleaded. “I’m beggin’. I’m sorry I was being wad, but please don’t make me listen to your kinky sexcapades.”

She grinned at him and he returned it. “Fine. But next time try not to jump to ridiculous conclusions, okay? I ‘preciate you looking out for me, but remember to use your words before you go all big brother, all right?”

“Well, hell,” he drawled. “How the hell was I supposed to know? Wasn’t like I knew you were gonna leave here last night and jump Daryl’s bones—thankfully.” He shook his head, then went back to his paperwork. “Wouldja do me a favor and call Mama to tell her about the misunderstanding with Dale?”

“Ugh. How bad was it?”

“According to the call I got, you were mostly naked and getting felt up by—and I’m paraphrasing what Mom said Dale told her here—some chain-smoking biker from the Holler who was in a gunfight and probably shot someone yesterday.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Mostly naked? Although…okay, fair enough, since she’d only been wearing a t-shirt. But getting felt up? Well…no, he had done that thing with her ass when he went in the house, so she guessed that counted. Chain-smoking biker—

All right, fine. So technically it was _all_ accurate, except for the shootout stuff, but it sounded a lot worse than it was. She sat up and looked at her brother, and apparently the look on her face said it all.

“Mm-hm.” Scotty arched a brow. “Yeah. Call Mom and get me off the hook for this. This’s all on you.”

\--

Liv didn’t get to see much of Daryl over the next few days. They slept in her bed, but not much else. He’d been working during the day and spending nearly every free minute he had at the hospital with Merle, and she’d been trying to pick up some of the slack at the tavern, a silent apology for dragging Scotty into her relationship gossip. Then Hershel had taken her along on a couple of house-calls—she really should get around to letting everyone know that the whole vet thing wasn’t going to work out—and the next thing she knew, three days had passed.

Scotty had insisted she take the night off, more to keep from having to pay her, she suspected, than because he and Karen didn’t welcome the help. She busied herself with cleaning house and was in the process of painting her toenails when her phone chirped, alerting her to a text. She set her polish aside and checked the message.

_Ricks done with trailer_

She sighed. It’d been nice having Daryl here. Even if they’d both been worn out by the time they crawled into bed at night, she’d enjoyed falling asleep cuddled up against his warm back.

_Ok. Want me to bring your stuff? I did laundry._

_yeh. ill b home _

She told him she’d leave as soon as her toes dried, then set her phone aside. She wasn’t sure what all he’d brought other than a couple pair of work jeans and a few t-shirts. When she got most of his stuff together—he wouldn’t really miss that Cheap Trick t-shirt, right?—she headed to the Hollow.

She felt a tiny, almost imperceptible niggling of apprehension, like she was getting ready to go out on the lake even though the weather called for thunderstorms but mentally shook herself. There was no reason to think just because Daryl was staying at his own place again that anything bad was going to happen.

She pulled in front of the trailer, scowling at sight of the bullet holes. She should rummage around in the attic and see if there was anything left of the remodeling stuff Dad had used to fix up the house when they’d had a bad tornado season a while back.

As she walked up the path toward the porch, she trailed her fingertips over the body of the Triumph, smiling a little. She’d have to see about getting Daryl to the lake again.

The screen door let out a weary groan when she entered. “Daryl?”

She sat his duffle bag on the sofa and looked around. The Sheriff’s department had done a thorough job of searching the place—and wrecking it. Daryl’s books were in haphazard stacks on the floor, along with the DVDs. The couch was crooked against the wall, cushions loosely tossed back on the frame. She wandered through to the kitchen. Cabinets were open, pots and pans scattered the counter top. Merle was a slob as she’d seen on her previous visit, but she doubted the trailer had been like this prior to the search.

She went down the hallway, calling Daryl’s name again. As she got closer to the end, she heard the shower running and knocked on the bathroom door. “Just letting you know I was here,” she called.

“Open the door. Can’t hear ya.”

She stuck her head in, eying the silhouette behind the blue shower curtain. “I said I was just letting you know I was here.”

“C’mere.”

She went into the bathroom, curious. “Yeah?”

“Hand me that towel, wouldja?”

She reached for the towel lying on the sink, giving a startled yelp when a wet arm shot through the gap in the curtain and he grabbed her wrist. She struggled, heart hammering, but he was too stout.

“Don’t you friggin’ dare! I’m not kidd--_ack_!”

He hauled her to the edge of the shower, catching her when she hit the side of the tub and tumbled halfway in. He pulled her under the spray, and she had to clamber in to stay upright.

“You sneaky assho—”

The insult was stopped by his lips crashing against hers, but he pulled back when she sputtered beneath the spray. He peered at her with dark amusement as she coughed and hacked, backing out from under the full force of the shower.

“You coulda let me get undressed, ya know.” She glared at him, but had the feeling it wasn’t very effective, considering she probably looked like a half-drowned Irish setter. Something in his features had her cocking her head and peering at him. “You okay?”

“Shitty day,” he said.

The darkness he’d spoken of was nearer the surface today, she saw. Phantom and insubstantial as smoke, but present nonetheless.

He leaned his head back, letting the warm water sluice over his hair and skin. He raked his wet hair back and leaned out of the spray, looking at her. He didn’t say anything, and it wasn’t long before she shuffled her feet nervously, wet sneakers squelching. The corner of his mouth hitched at that. “Wanna get more comfortable?”

“I don’t think I’m athletically equipped to get as comfortable as you’re intending.”

“We’ll manage.”

He closed the distance between them, pressing flush against her and pinning her to the shower wall. His hands fisted in her wet hair, holding her still while he plundered her mouth.

She slicked her hands over his skin, observing with pleasure that the only thing better than Daryl naked was Daryl _wet_ and naked. He was hot and hard in all the right places, most notably where he pressed against her stomach somewhat urgently. She kicked off her wet shoes even as he pulled back and hauled her sopping t-shirt over her head. His fingers found the button of her shorts and he made short work of getting rid of them.

The second she was naked, Daryl shoved his knee between hers, drawing a needy grunt in response. She ground against his thigh, surprised at the intensity rolling off them.

He curved a hand behind her knee and jerked it up, hooking it over his hip, and pressed forward, sliding the head of his cock along the seam of her body. She breathed his name and clawed at his shoulders, trying to get him closer still.

This wasn’t some let’s-play-around-and-tease-each-other encounter. This was a desperate, frantic need for release.

He slid into her easily, his gasp ragged and broken against her ear. He didn’t wait for her to adjust before pulling back and plunging again, deeper this time, with such force that it stole the breath from her lungs. She dug her nails in and held on for the ride, tightening her leg around his waist as her other foot struggled to keep its grip on the tub floor. Then it wasn’t an issue, as he pulled out of her and gripped her ass, hiking her up to wrap both legs around him. He entered her again, and the change in angle had Liv seeing stars.

“Oh, oh God. Daryl…”

He bit her bottom lip and slicked his tongue over it right before the bite got painful. She buried her face in his throat, mouth moving frantically over his neck and shoulder. Lapped a stray drop of water from the dip in his collarbone, making him moan. Her arms tightened around his shoulders and she clenched her teeth, trying not to sink them into him as it all got to be too much for her. She threw her head back, resting it against the shower wall.

“G’on, girl,” he growled, running his tongue over a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. His teeth scraped there, and breath from his whispered words danced along her skin. “Let go. I got ya.”

With a keening cry, her body clenched and shuddered as wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure cascaded over her. Seconds later, he came with a rough shout of his own.

He rested his forehead against hers while they struggled to get their breathing under control again. “Y’alright to stand?”

She nodded, but when he lowered her to her feet, she had to support herself with one hand against the wall and the other against his chest.

“I got ya,” he said again, looping an arm around her back and kissing the top of her head almost apologetically.

He shut off the shower and helped her from the tub, stopping to quickly run a towel over her before scooping her up and carting her to his bedroom. He sat her on the edge of the bed and gently brushed wet hair from her face. Concern shadowed his features, darkening his eyes.

“I’m fine,” she told him. She cupped his cheek and drew him down for a reassuring kiss on the lips. When she pulled back, she stroked her thumb over a small scar on his cheek and smiled. “Hi.”

His lips curved softly, but he still examined her face. “Hey.”

“I don’t have any other clothes,” she suddenly realized, eyes widening.

He smiled then and straightened. “I’ll chuck ‘em in the dryer. You can borrow a shirt ‘til they’re done.”

He pulled on a pair of boxers and dropped a towel over her head, which she used to dry her hair as he rummaged through a stack of clothes in a chair by the door. He finally found one to his liking and passed her a soft t-shirt that had once perhaps been blue.

“Ain’t pretty, but it’s clean.”

“And sleeveless,” she said, smirking. “How novel.”

“Wise ass.” But he grinned again before going to see to her laundry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee. Morning smoke. Conversation. Dirty times. Bossy Daryl.

When Liv woke, early morning sunlight streamed through the curtains. She stretched, reveling in the dull ache in her thighs and arms from clinging to Daryl the night before. She rolled and reached for him, opening her eyes when her hand found only empty space.

“Daryl?”

The house was quiet.

She got out of bed, slipping an oversized t-shirt over her head. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and hesitated to lightly touch the small, dark hickeys that dotted her breasts. Throwing her sleep-tousled reflection a satisfied smirk, she tugged the shirt the rest of the way down and padded down the hall. She stopped off to brush her teeth, then went in search of her missing lover.

“Daryl? You here?” She entered the empty living room and headed for the kitchen, but stopped when she saw a silhouette of someone sitting on her front steps. She cracked open her front door, smiling when he turned at the sound. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Mind some company?”

He shook his head and moved over to make room for her on the top step. He took a drag from his cigarette and watched her come sit beside him. He exhaled the stream of smoke away from her. Squinting, he arched a brow and reached over to brush a knuckle beneath her ear. “Nice shade of purple on your neck.”

“Other places too,” she said. “I gotta admit, kinda like seeing ‘em.”

“Me too,” he said. “Especially this one.” He tugged the neck of his shirt aside, showing her the stark bruise over his trapezius muscle. Two perfect, blue crescents highlighted by raised magenta scrapes. Teeth marks.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, then reached it out and examined the mark she’d made. Her cheeks burned scarlet. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” she said with a giggle.

“I ain’t.” He threw her a heated smirk and finished his cigarette.

“Care if I kiss you this morning?”

“Prob’ly taste like smoke,” he warned.

She shrugged. “Don’t bother me if it doesn’t you.” She leaned into him as he cupped the back of her neck and slanted his mouth over hers. She breathed a little sigh when his tongue stroked hers.

He broke away with another quick peck on her lips. “Lemme ask you somethin’. How the hell hadn’t you had sex ‘fore last night?”

She laughed at the Daryl-esq directness of the question. “Wasn’t ever an issue,” she said, nibbling her lip and leaning her head on his shoulder. “I mean, I had boyfriends all through high school and college, a couple later on. Kept waiting for a guy to strike my fancy like that, but it just never happened. Closest I came was a boy I went with when I was about sixteen. Dated a year, and I thought, ‘Hey, I might give it up to this guy when I’m ready.’”

“What happened?”

She swallowed and sighed, picking at her fingers. “He got ready before I did. Didn’t take it too well when I shut him down.”

The muscles beneath her cheek tensed and she felt him turn look down at the top of her head. “He hurt you?”

She shook her head as much as his arm would allow. “No, nothin’ like that. Not really.” She lifted a shoulder. “Started gettin’ handsy and tore my shirt a little, which pissed me off, so I gave him a shot to the balls. Heel stomped ‘em when he was down for good measure,” she added with a wince. “Then I stormed off home.” She chuckled. “Some of the boys were over watching movies with Scotty, and it was Rick noticed my torn shirt and angry tears. Scotty took off like a shot.” She tilted her head back and looked at him. “I’m not sure if you know this, but my brother’s got a punch like a mule’s kick when he puts his mind to it. Goes at it like a damn cage fighter. Took Rick, Shane, and another buddy of theirs to pull him off.”

“Good to know now I’m sleepin’ with his sister,” Daryl said wryly. “What happened to the guy?”

“Rick and Shane drove him and his destroyed testicles home. He was in their grade and they were seniors that year, and he moved away after graduation.”

She sat up and reached her arms high over her head, squeaking a little as her muscles stretched. She shook out her limbs, then rested her elbows on her bare knees.

“You naked under that shirt?” he asked suddenly.

“Yeah, why? Wanna fool around? Give the neighbors a show?” she teased, dragging a hand up his thigh.

“Sure. Already got an audience.”

“What?” She sat up, drawing her knees together as she looked around.

He took out another cigarette and shook his hair back from his eyes. “Two houses down, on the left,” he said, flipping open his zippo and lighting up. “Been keepin’ check on you since you got out here.”

She turned to look. Sure enough, a man knelt in front of a flower bed, doing probably the worst job of surveillance Liv had ever seen. She gave an annoyed huff and pushed to her feet. “Morning, Dale!” she called with a wave.

“I can see your ass when you raise your arm like that,” Daryl said. He exhaled and flicked his ashes. “Just so’s you know.”

“Good morning, Livvy. Didn’t notice you out there,” Dale called back, earning a snort from Daryl. “What’re you up to so early on a Saturday?”

All false friendliness, Liv plastered on a smile. “Nothin’ just yet.”

“Tryin’a screw me on the front porch.”

She gave him a light kick. “Fixin’ to go back in and make some coffee.”

“You O’Neills and your coffee,” Dale said fondly. “Your daddy used to sit on that porch from six to nine every morning drinking his coffee.”

“Like a one-man Neighborhood Watch,” Daryl murmured.

“Used to drive Mama crazy,” Liv said in an aside, keeping her smile in place but not moving her lips.

He made a noncommittal noise. Dale said something about spring daffodils, but Daryl chose that moment to stand and move past her, taking the opportunity to slip his hands beneath the back of her shirt and palm her ass cheeks. He gave a quick squeeze before going inside, tossing her a full smile over his shoulder.

That damn smile—like seeing a unicorn.

A rainbow unicorn.

A rainbow unicorn dishing out ice cream cones.

She interrupted whatever Dale was saying. “I better get in and make that coffee,” she called. “See ya later.”

She went inside and leaned against the door with a sigh, pinning him with a playfully accusatory glare. “I give it ten minutes before he’s on the phone. By the time my mom hears about it, we’ll have been naked, having sex on the porch swing.”

He was stretched on the sofa, bare feet crossed at the ankles, one hand behind his head and the other on his chest. “Takes talent.”

Liv perched on the couch arm. “You remember that night at the lake, what you said?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek and shook his head. “Said a lot of stuff that night, y’know?”

She arched a doubting brow. “When I was on your bike, tied up at the wrists and arched back over the gas tank, you said you’d…pictured me like that before. Remember?”

His eyes darkened to cobalt blue. “‘member somethin’ like that, yeah.”

“Have you ever, ya know, thought about me any other way? Like, I dunno…maybe we could do one of your fantasies.” Oh God. She could feel her face flushing. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

“I don’t think you’re ready to know ‘bout that,” he said.

Liv fiddled with her ragged braid, undoing it and scrubbing her fingertips against her scalp, shaking out the locks. “I should probably tell you now that I really hate it when people think they know better for me than I do.” She tilted her head and studied him. “You can tell me.”

He lifted his arm, turning his palm up as if in question. “Woman, you can’t even talk about it without blushing like a school girl. How the hell you gonna be involved in it?”

She chuckled and replaited her hair. “I did pretty good with the motorcycle. Actively participating is a lot different than talking about it.” She sobered at his expression when he sat up. Something had gotten his hackles up. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Somethin’ wrong with the way things went down last night?” he asked, tone challenging. “I ain’t good with relationship bullshit, but seemed like you were all right with it at the time.”

“No, no. Daryl,” she said. “You’re gettin’ me all wrong. Last night was fantastic. It was…well, hell, you’ve got a copy of my friggin’ dental record on your shoulder.” She got up and stood in front of him, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Relationship bullshit or not, I like being around you, talking to you. And I’m a hundred-percent blissed at the idea of having sex with you again in any form or fashion.”

“Well what the hell’s the problem then?”

“You made last night incredible for me, but I felt how hard it was for you to hold back. I just…I don’t need you to keep yourself in check.” She placed a finger under his chin, tilting his head back so he’d look at her fully. “I don’t _want_ you to.”

He pulled his face away and shook his head, chewing his thumbnail. “I dunno, Liv. It’s some pretty heavy shit sometimes. I ain’t some kinda freak or nothin’, but…” He scrubbed a hand over his face and scratched his chin. “I don’t wanna do nothin’ to make you scared of me.”

She smoothed a hand over his cheek. “You can’t scare me, Daryl Dixon. I guess I’m just saying that the reasons might be worlds apart, but we both need things a certain way sometimes. You get off on the control, I get off on you having it. It ain’t gotta be that way all the time, but that’s the beauty of it. It’s our _choice_. You need time to get easy with the idea of tying me up and doing whatever you want with me? Fine, I got time. But it doesn’t have to be later.” She kissed him deep, swallowing his quiet growl.

He gripped her hips, bunching her shirt, then dragged his hands down her thighs and back up, sliding under the hem. He groped her ass like he had on the porch, lifting and squeezing, drawing her closer. He broke the kiss and pulled her forward at the same time he leaned against the back of the couch, and she straddled his lap. His pupils were blown, black swallowing the blue of his irises. “You sure ‘bout this?”

She nodded exuberantly. “Yes. Yesyesyes.” Burying her hands in his hair, she kissed him again. His hands were restless against her, fingers gripping, nails scraping. Liv struggled to breathe as he caught the edge of her bottom lip between his teeth.

Then he suddenly tore away, shoving her up to stand. He followed her up, reaching back to pull his t-shirt over his head. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her roughly, lips hard and teeth sharp against her mouth. He released her and bent, swiping the stacks of coasters and unopened mail off the mahogany coffee table. He kicked the table, moving it more to the center of the room.

“Hands and knees,” he panted, unfastening his belt. “On the table.”

Liv complied immediately, crawling onto the sturdy surface. She grabbed her shirt to pull it off, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Leave it.”

He pressed her forward until she was on all fours, then slowly dragged his heavy palm down her spine. She arched like a cat, excitement and desire building in a heady combination. He shoved the hem of her shirt up, baring her ass. She peeked over her shoulder at him, cheeks warming at the sight of him staring at her nakedness. His eyes lifted to hers and he reached out, massaged her flesh, not looking away from her.

“It gets too much, you let me know.”

Still without looking away, he lifted the hand and brought it back to her ass cheek with a sound slap. She gasped and arched a little, curling her fingers against the edge of the table. He swatted her again. Liv grunted and closed her eyes in ecstasy, lowering her head as little zips of pleasure tingled in her core. He struck her again, harder, and she clenched her thighs. Each strike was better than the last, and when he’d finished, both sides of her backside were warm and tingling. Her cunt felt like it was on fire, swollen and throbbing with every beat of her racing heart.

She sighed softly when she felt his lips on her stinging ass cheek and jerked her head around to look at him. His eyes found hers again, watching her reaction closely as he licked and kissed her reddened skin. Liv’s eyelids were heavy, her breaths coming out in ragged pants. She lost sight of him as he switched to the other side, but his mouth still moved over her, soothing the stings. He straightened and lowered his gaze to her body.

“Fuckin’ drenched.” A finger dragged over her labia and she bucked back with a harsh gasp. He brought the digit to his lips and sucked it. “Don’t know I’ll ever get tired of your taste.” He cupped her without warning, and again her front half collapsed to the table top. She chanted his name like a prayer, begging him not to stop touching her. He slotted his fingers against her folds, rubbing against her clit in light circles. His thumb teased her entrance and she pushed back.

“Uh-uh,” he said, laying his free hand on the small of her back to keep her still.

“_Dammit_, Daryl...” she whined.

He leaned forward and tweaked the back of her hip with his teeth. “Hush, now.” His circling got heavier, more aggressive, and his thumb stroked her wet heat. “Can’t run with the big dogs, best stay on the porch.”

Her thighs clenched around his wrist and finally—_finally_—he pulled his fingers back and breached her, pressing two up and in, stroking the spot inside that she’d never found herself. What started as a wince as he stretched her ended in a gasping moan as his digits worked within her.

He wasn’t gentle, pumping his fingers in and out in a strong, steady rhythm. His erection pressed against the back of her thigh, jeans scraping her skin as he shifted his position. Her body tightened in anticipation of approaching orgasm, and she bowed her back and lowered her head.

Daryl stopped all attentions, removing his hand from her. She wanted to shout in frustration as her body wept for release. Nerves electrified, muscles screaming with tension.

But as she whirled to ask what he was doing, he dragged his wet hand across his stomach and eyed her, circling around to stand in front of her. He crowded in close and tugged her up on her knees, and she braced her hands against his ribs.

He cupped her chin, eyes boring into hers with a look of fixed determination. “I’ll letcha get off when you beg me to fuck you hard.”

She dragged her nails against his ribs and gave a languorous smile when his hand tightened. She was tempted open her mouth and say the words right now, but she wasn’t ready for this rollercoaster to end. Besides, he’d half thrown down a challenge, knowing how she blushed and stuttered when she used “fuck” as a verb.

So she nodded as best she could with his hand holding her so firmly. “I understand.”

Obviously pleased, his eyes twinkled and he kissed her briefly, then pulled back and let her go completely, dropping his arms to his sides. “Suck me.”

Liv inhaled sharply, excited and nervous. As much porn as she’d seen, she knew the fundamentals of giving head, but she wasn’t sure about the execution. She didn’t want to disappoint. Still, she swallowed and pressed a kiss to his sternum, loving the feel of the rise and fall of his chest beneath her lips. She slipped over to flick her tongue over his flat nipple, raking lightly with her teeth before ducking to kiss his stomach. Her hands smoothed over him until she got to his waistband.

With a flick of her fingers, the button popped open. She risked a glance at him, but his face was motionless and unreadable. She made short work of freeing him from his jeans and was rewarded with a face-to-face encounter with the cock that had given her so much pleasure the night before. The room had been dim so she hadn’t gotten a chance to look her fill, even when they’d gone for round two and she’d been on top. She leaned in to kiss the swollen head. Her tongue darted out instinctively, tasting, examining the texture of him. Daryl’s hand fisted in her hair, and his breath left in a strangled exhale. Gaining a little confidence from his reaction, Liv offered little nibbling kisses down the shaft. She gripped him at the base, smiling at the velvet-on-steel feel of him in her hand as she petted. She ducked her head and took him between her lips, working her way down with an easy forward and retreat strategy. She hooked her fingers in his belt loops, leveraging herself and hoping the jeans stayed around his hips so she didn’t topple off the table.

Daryl’s free hand moved to join the other, cupping the back of her head. “Lookit me.” His voice was deep and harsh, like he’d smoked six packs of cigarettes in one sitting.

Not pausing in her ministrations, she rolled her eyes up. His lips were parted, his eyes practically glowing. Shoulders tense and strong as he held her. And the bite she’d giving him stood out starkly against his freckled, tanned skin.

His hips arched forward as she went down and she flattened her tongue, relaxing her throat and accepting him. She hummed softly, an unconscious action, but it ripped a groan out of Daryl like it damn-near killed him, and he closed his eyes.

She dropped one hand from his hip to snake between her legs. If she could just…

Her fingers touched her clit and she moaned around Daryl’s cock. He stopped moving and pulled away, freeing himself from her lips with a soft pop of air.

_Oh, shit_, she thought, and a dark thrill shot through her, much like that first night when he’d chased her and caught her in the shadows.

He leaned down until his cheek was pressed to hers. “The fuck you doin’?” he whispered. His tongue traced the shell of her ear and he bit the lobe. Liv moaned softly and tilted her head, offering him better access. “You tryin’a get off?”

“No,” she breathed, not bothering to open her eyes.

A soft smile still played on her lips. No fear, no anxiety at the harshness of his tone. Just the exhilarating anticipation of whatever might happen next. Though the threat of orgasm had been tempered by lack of direct contact, she could feel the stirrings begin anew deep within.

“Looked like it to me,” he said. With one final slick of his tongue he straightened. “Get up.”

She clambered from the table ungracefully, legs stiff from being bunched beneath her. Daryl reached out to steady her when she stumbled, then paced around her, nibbling his bottom lip. He grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it from her body and leaving her bare. “You ready to get off?”

“Whenever you are. I can do this for days, pal,” she declared. The bold statement was tempered somewhat by the husky breathlessness of the words.

He stopped, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Can, huh?” he drawled, circling around behind. He pressed against her and reached around to squeeze her breast, rolling her tight nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching and tugging. Her hips curved back, rubbing her ass against him. “Don’t seem t’me like you could make it much longer. Say the words and we’ll see to it. Otherwise we’ll have to let you cool off a spell.”

She couldn’t be denied again or she’d explode. “Daryl…”

His hand moved to her other breast, giving it the same harsh treatment. She cried out and reached back to grip the denim of his jeans when he roughly twisted both nipples at once. “Hm? You got somethin’ to say?” His voice was a growl that sent vibrations straight to her core.

“Coffee table,” she panted. “Drawer in the coffee table. _Shit_.”

He moved to the coffee table with a curious glance at her, then pulled the drawer open and removed a box of condoms.

“I had _really_ high hopes for the Peanut Festival,” she said on a laugh.

He chuckled quietly and gave her a look so erotic that she thought she might come right then. “On your back, on the floor. Now.”

She obeyed quickly, hissing when her ass touched the cold wood. Daryl tore a condom from the strand and returned to her, staring down at her with the little square clutched between two fingers. He lightly kicked her legs apart and stood between them, eyes hot and a devilish tilt to his lips. “You got somethin’ to say to me?” he asked again.

Her face flamed, but her voice was strong. “I’d really like it if you’d fuck me hard.”

He shucked his jeans and fell to his knees between hers, opening the packet as he did. He held it out to her. “Put it on.”

Liv sat up again and took the condom from him. She wrapped her other hand around his warm, hard length. The muscle in Daryl’s jaw worked and he took deep breaths. She smoothed the condom on with a shaking hand, unrolling it slowly. She’d never done the banana thing in Sex Ed., so she didn’t want to mess up.

Daryl covered her hand with his, offering a soft smile. “Easy, girl,” he said, helping her roll the condom on. “Keep that up and this’ll be over quick.”

Once wrapped, he widened his knees and took her hips in his hands, urging her around. She automatically went to her hands again. He wrapped her braid around his hand until her head was pulled back, and he held tightly. “Say it again.”

“Dammit, Daryl,” she said between clenched teeth. “_Fuck. Me. Hard_!”

He sank into her, seating himself deep, and she let go a throaty shriek. Her body clenched around him, gripping tight as he plunged and retreated. The fingers of one hand dug into her hip while his other kept its grip on her hair. She was assailed by sensations from head to toe. Daryl grunted with each snap of his hips, growling dirty—_filthy_—things that had her blood rushing and even more wetness squelching between her thighs.

The hand on her hip moved and he reached around to slap and squeeze her breast, making Liv buck.

“Sweet Jesus,” she groaned. She writhed wantonly, screaming her encouragements.

“Keep that up, neighbors’ll hear ya,” Daryl said. “Maybe that’s what you want. Huh? Yeah, you want people to hear me fucking you.” He redoubled his thrusts, and Liv knew she was going over. He let go of her hair and bent over her back, gripping her jaw and turning her head to plunder her mouth. His breath fanned her cheek when he whispered harshly, “G’on then, baby. Let ‘em hear you scream my fuckin’ name.” He punctuated the last word with a brutal stir of his hips while he was buried in her, and that was the tipping point.

“Daryl! Daryl, fuck!”

A savage sound tore from her throat as she came, body tightening around him, milking his own orgasm. He shuddered against her back and swept her arms from beneath her so he could roll onto his back, dragging her with him. She went along bonelessly.

She stared at the ceiling as she caught her breath, feeling Daryl’s heart race against her back. He brought his arms around her, shifting her so he could pull out of her. She let him do whatever. She was his ragdoll. Couldn’t work up the energy to move for herself if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. She’d be perfectly fine laying on top of Daryl ‘til Jesus came back.

It struck her then that he hadn’t said anything for a couple of minutes.

She managed to move her head onto his shoulder so she could wobble her head around and see his face. “Did I kill you?”

“Nah.” His lips curled at the corners and he turned to look at her. “You a’ight?”

“I feel like…” She squinched her face, searching for the words. “Like a slinky.”

A chuckle reverberated through his chest and into her back. “What?”

“You know, like how slinkies start off closed, then when you push ‘em down stairs they spread out and come back together? Every time you touch me, I fly apart, but you pick me up when I get all back together at the bottom of the stairs ‘til it’s time to go again.”

He kissed her, a quick peck on the lips, as he grinned and shook his head. He wrapped his arms around her.

A thought hit her, and she giggled. “I’m gonna have to mop.”

“You gonna have to scrape me off this floor first,” Daryl said. “Gettin’ too damn old for hardwood.” He slapped her hip playfully and lightly bit her shoulder. “You comfortable?”

She laughed. “Not really,” she admitted. She rolled off him, wincing as her muscles protested. She helped him up. “How’s a shower sound to you?”

“Horny thing, ain’tcha?”

She poked his side, having learned the night before that he was a little ticklish there. “Yes. But I meant single showers. Or double, whatever, but no shower sex. There’s not enough room.”

“At least you considered it,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up. “I could use a shower.”

“You could,” she agreed.

“You ain’t lookin’ so fresh yourself, sunshine,” he said, squinting down at her. He leaned over and kissed the side of her neck, then held his hand out to her in a surprisingly intimate gesture. “C’mon.”

She beamed at him and let him lead her to the shower.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovemaking and goodbyes.

Her clothes had been dry for ages now, but Liv was content to sit on the sofa in Daryl’s old shirt with his head resting on her thigh while they watched _The Outsiders_. She’d rubbed his shoulders for a bit after noticing him rolling his neck to ease some tension, and when she’d finished, he’d crawled back onto the couch and continued using her as a pillow. She’d reminded him about Glenn and Maggie’s wedding the next week, and he’d nodded and gone back to watching the movie.

She idly combed her fingers through his hair—he needed a trim, but she doubted he’d think about getting one before he looked like a wildling—and only half-watched TV. While he was occupied with the drama onscreen, she took the time to observe his face.

He was edgier and more withdrawn than normal, which was saying something. All night he’d done his best to be pleasant—or as close to pleasant as he got—but she’d seen it earlier, just behind his eyes. A kind of melancholy.

She traced her fingertips over the crinkle in his forehead as the Curtis boys had an epically dramatic family moment.

_“—if we don’t have each other, then we ain’t got nothing. And when you ain’t got nothing, you end up like Dally. And I don’t mean dead, either…”_

The crease in his forehead deepened and she leaned forward to brush her lips over it. “You okay?”

He rolled onto his back and looked up at her. “Yeah, why?” He reached up and hooked his fingers behind her neck to draw her closer. “You okay?”

She nodded and closed her mouth over his, and he kissed her back slowly and languidly, stroking her tongue. She sat up, finishing the kiss with a quick peck. He started to turn onto his side again to watch the end of the movie.

She sighed and chewed her lip. “It just seems like—”

“Jesus Christ, woman,” he grumbled, rolling back and stacking his hands on his stomach. He looked at her expectantly, waiting.

“Well, you said you had a shitty day, so I was just wondering if there was something I could do? Or if you wanted to talk?”

He crooked a half-smile, lifted a hand to fiddle with the buttons on the shirt. “C’n think of a couple things you can do.”

“Will it make you feel better?”

He dropped his hand with a sigh. “Told you I’m alright.”

“But…” She worried her cheek, wondering if she should press him. The evening had been nice and peaceful. _Screw it_, she thought. If he sulled up, she’d handle it. “Did something happen with Merle? I-I sorta overheard some of what he was saying when I went by the hospital the other day.” She hurried on. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop or anything. I…it just sorta happened.”

His jaw was clenched, but otherwise his face was impassive. “Why ain’t you said anything ‘fore now?”

“Didn’t see any need to,” she said with a small shrug.

“Must not’ve heard much,” he muttered. “If you knew why I came t’town, you wouldn’t be so damn blasé.”

“I heard y’all talking about it. Heard you say you hadn’t made a move on anybody.” She frowned down at him, brows furrowed. “Was I supposed to have a different reaction?”

“Hell yes you were,” he snapped, sitting up. “You find out something like that about the guy you’re fucking—”

“We hadn’t yet,” she interjected.

“—and you don’t say nothin’? You oughta been pissed! Lit into me the second you got home from Scott’s that night! Me ‘n’ Merle, we ain’t the kinda people you got any business even bein’ around, much less…what I do to you. Jesus, girl, where’s your head?”

He wasn’t angry. His chin was set stubbornly and he raked his hair back in a frustrated jerk, but when Liv met his eyes from the opposite end of the sofa, shadows of anxiety danced there. Daryl Dixon looked a little bit…afraid. Of her? For her? For himself? She didn’t know. Didn’t care.

She knew then that she was lost. Those eyes had pierced her soul, marked her for life. She knew she’d go through hell and back to keep him safe.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” she asked quietly. “You said something to me once, about my being up in your head and not being able to get me out. Well it’s the same for me. Now, maybe you think you know what’s best for me—I’ll overlook it, but only for you. I think I mentioned about not liking when people try to tell me I don’t know my own mind—but I know what I know. You and me, Daryl, we got something. And if you think I’m going to toss it all out for anything short of dying, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen,” he said.

The corners of her lips lifted in a small smile and she pushed herself up from the sofa. “Nobody does, babe. That’s sorta the hardest part to livin’.” She laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing reassuringly as she slid onto his lap.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with a kiss, effectively shutting him up. His tongue swept inside her mouth and Liv sighed, angling her head to get a better position. Her fingers curled around his neck and tangled in his hair while his fists bunched the flannel of his shirt at her hips, fingertips digging into her naked flesh. He pushed the material up and ran his hands down the smooth length of her thighs, then back up, taking his sweet time to absorb the feel of her skin.

Liv gasped against his lips as a sense of awareness swelled within her. Every move they made was slow and deliberate, so unlike any other time they had been together. Daryl stroked her tenderly, affectionately, but without the tense restraint he’d showed before. And she responded with a submission that had little to do with those magnificent touches. She was surrendering her heart this time, as well as her body.

Daryl slowly unbuttoned the buttons of her borrowed flannel before brushing his rough fingertips over her collarbones and shoulders, urging the shirt down her arms to leave her bared to him. She helped him off with his t-shirt and then leaned forward to take her time kissing and tasting the skin of his throat. She rubbed her cheek against his stubbly jaw, just taking a moment to breathe in his scent.

_I love you_. The words scorched her tongue. She wanted to say them so badly, but she knew he wasn’t ready to hear them. Instead, she turned her mouth to his ear. “Take me to bed.”

She eased off his lap and linked fingers with him, tugging him toward the hallway as she led him to the bedroom. He closed the door as they entered and then pulled her to him, pressing flush against her body, his belt buckle—when had he undone that?—scraping cold against her stomach. He kissed her, walking her back until she was snugly between his body and the door. He cupped her chin, stroking the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip as he lifted her face so he could see her eyes. His intense gaze bore into hers for a long moment before he spoke.

“Scares the shit outta me how much I want you. You’d run screaming loud as you could, if you knew.”

Liv shivered at the thrill that shot up her spine. “I done told ya, you can’t scare me, Daryl Dixon,” she said with a small smile, shaking her head as much as his hold would allow.

He sighed, his warm breath tickling over her lips as he released her and boxed her in with hands against the door on either side of her head. “And here I thought you was smart.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then moved to her upturned lips.

She worked to free him of his battered jeans as they moved in the direction of the bed. Naked and unashamed, he lay back on the mattress and reached to cup her breasts as she threw a leg across his hips. He leaned forward and kissed the valley between her breasts, making her breath catch, before running the tip of his tongue up, up, up, from chest to throat to chin. She opened her mouth to catch his in a kiss, sucking lightly on his tongue before gently urging him back with a hand on his chest.

His hand moved between their bodies, teasing her hot center until she was arching against his hand, riding with abandon as if it were his cock.

“Jesus, Liv…”

Her head snapped up, eyes locked with his, and she took hold of his wrist to pull his hand away. She lined his body with hers and sank onto him, earning a long, drawn-out groan from him as his fingers clenched at her hips. Her breath hitched at the sensation of his filling her. Once she was seated, she leaned back and braced her hands on his thighs, arching her back in a way that had her breasts thrust to the ceiling.

Biting her lip, she began to move. He fell into rhythm with her, pulling himself into a sitting position and cradling her as she rode him. Liv brought one arm around to drape over his shoulder, smoothing over his skin as the muscles bunched and released. Daryl dipped his head and caught her upturned nipple between his lips, causing her hips to stutter momentarily in their rhythm.

His thrusts became more insistent until she felt him stiffen beneath her fingers, and a second later her own release screamed through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his closed more tightly around her back. He buried his face in her neck as they both struggled to breathe and their bodies were racked with spasms.

He leaned back against the pillows, bringing her down with him. He trailed his fingers down her back, to her hips, and back up again, his touch soothing a sigh from her.

She turned her lips into his chest and kissed his damp skin. Both were quiet for a long while, and were it not for his gentle petting, she would’ve thought he’d fallen asleep.

Finally, she couldn’t keep the burning question in any longer.

“When are you leaving?”

He froze, fingers stilling on her hips. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

She rested her chin on the back of her hand, looking up into his eyes. “We really doing that?” She cocked her head and smiled sadly. “You’ve said it a thousand different ways today, Daryl.”

His frown deepened as his eyes narrowed. “Said what?”

“Goodbye.” She sighed and turned her face back to the side, resting her cheek against his chest again as she drew invisible designs on him with her index finger. “You clung to me just as hard as I was clinging to you. So I’s just wondering when you were leaving.” She glanced back up at him.

He chewed his bottom lip and sighed. “Day after t’morrow,” he said. “Doc says Merle’ll be out then. We gotta…take care of some stuff.”

“You coming back?”

His shoulder lifted. “Dunno.”

She nodded wordlessly and worried her cheek before looking at him again. “Can…can I stay here tonight?”

The corners of his lips tilted up slightly as he brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “I had hoped y’would.” He sighed again. “I’m sorry I didn’t say nothin’ sooner. Never had to say bye to a girl, y’know?”

She smiled at him and kissed his chin. “Well, don’t say bye. Say ‘see ya later,’ and hope you ain’t lying.”

-


	9. Chapter 9

Liv sipped a glass of wine as she watched Glenn and Maggie make goo-goo eyes at each other on the dancefloor. The wedding had been lovely, the church decked out in soft blues and greens. It was a beautiful day for an outside reception. The sun was setting in a cloudless sky, the temperature was perfect, and a gentle breeze occasionally ruffled the skirt of Liv’s floral-print dress, bringing with it the smell of freshly mown grass and a hint of wisteria.

She checked the time on her phone and wondered if she could make it out to the parking lot without anybody noticing.

“Looks like there’s a thousand places you’d rather be,” Scotty said, taking a seat beside her.

Damn. “Just checking the time.”

“Mm-hm. Taking medicine?”

She took another sip of wine. “Figured I’d go set up for tonight, in case anybody wanted to continue the party and give us their patronage. Just trying to be a responsible business partner.” She smiled sweetly.

“Bullshit,” Scotty snorted. “You’re looking for an excuse to bail. And I ain’t givin’ it to you, sister. Told everybody we weren’t opening ‘til after nine.”

“You’re the devil.”

“I do try.” He sighed. “So you ready for the invasion?”

She groaned. “Not really. I’ve gotten used to doing things my own way, y’know? Having Mama and Daddy back at the house for two weeks is gonna be an experience.”

“Got a few days yet to contract some kinda contagion.” He grinned again. “Why you think I wanted to keep the apartment? He who gets the house gets the guests.”

“You’re the worst.” Her phone vibrated, drawing her attention. She stared at the screen and debated with herself.

“That him?”

She glanced at Scotty and nodded. “Should I…”

“Olivia, I’m gonna lay it out for you like this,” he said, leaning forward and setting his bottle of Bud on the table. “When you finally told Mama and Daddy that you wanted to go into business with me instead of going back to school, did the universe explode? Did the sky rain fire and frogs? No. So I figure that oughta show you that A.) the world doesn’t end when you go against what you think people want you to do, and 2.) you’re just fine making decisions for yourself. Hell, I’m glad you sacked up and decided to split the tavern with me. I hate all the damn paperwork. Now, as for this—” He tapped her phone. “You gotta figure out if you’re up for it on your own. Daryl’s all right by me, but I ain’t the one bonein’ him. Can you do the long-distance thing?”

“I…” She sighed and shrugged. “Well, yeah. It’s not like he took off in the middle of the night without a word. But Scotty—”

“Uh-uh. No ‘but Scotty’s. You’re good with him being in Atlanta, shut the fuck up and answer the man’s text.” He took a pull from his beer and stood. “And cheer up, wouldya? It’s a wedding. Y’look like somebody ran over your cat.” He flicked her ear before turning to leave.

Stifling a grin, Liv kicked at him half-heartedly, then opened Daryl’s text.

_wut u doin_

“Ugh. How does autocorrect not rip you apart?” she muttered, shaking her head.

_Nothing. At Maggie’s wedding. Waiting for chacha slide. Know it’s coming. :)_

_sounds fun_

_ Sure it does. How’s Atlanta?_ She erased the question three times before sending it.

_Shitty_

She tapped a finger on the empty wineglass as she pursed her lips. “Then why don’t you come back, asshole?” _Sorry to hear that_, she texted.

_Assholes a little strong aint it_

She fumbled her phone and spun in her seat, gaze darting around the crowded tent. She almost missed him, standing behind Tyreese and Karen two tables over. His blue eyes shone from beneath the clean fringe of too-long hair that framed his face. His black Henley wasn’t dressy, nor were the dark jeans he wore with it, but the outfit gave the appearance of casual stylishness, which, considering the wearer, was both laughable and drool-worthy.

Sweet lord, she had it bad.

He smirked at her as if he knew her thoughts, and she lifted her phone to text.

_Nice shirt. How much them sleeves set you back?_

His eyes flicked to his phone and he bit back a smile. Meeting her eyes again, he walked toward her and she rose to meet him. He’d only been gone a few days, but it felt longer. Maybe because she hadn’t known if or when she would see him again. She wasn’t sure. To be honest, she didn’t care.

He was home again, in her arms, cupping her face between his working-man’s hands and kissing the crap outta her, and she didn’t give a damn about anything else in the world.

“You wanna get outta here for a bit?” he asked when he finally came up for air.

She nodded. “Absolutely. Lemme tell Scotty I’m leaving.”

“Aight. I’ll be in the truck.”

She made her way through the crowd and back, skirting the chatters and eyeballing an escape route next to the gift table. As she passed, the stacks of presents wobbled and started to topple. She managed to catch a couple of boxes, but one hit the floor and she heard an indelicate crunch that made her wince. Maybe nobody else heard it.

Once the gifts were stable, she tried to squeeze between the table and Rick’s back. She accidentally grabbed a handful of his firm posterior and wasn’t sure who was the more embarrassed. Her cheeks were flaming by the time she got to the truck.

“I think I just molested the sheriff.”

“Saw that,” Daryl said, throwing her a sideways smile as he shifted the truck into gear. “You sure know how to make an exit.”

\--

They drove the backroads for a long time, enjoying each other’s company and the wind blowing through the windows. The moon was coming up, fat and full, reminding Liv of The Night at the Lake. Had that only been one month? Or was it two? Since starting with Daryl, all sense of time had gone out the window. It seemed like she’d known him for years, and when he was away, it felt like time dilated even more.

He turned the truck onto the lake road and she smiled.

“I was just thinking about the last time we were out here.” The park gate was closed, but he got out and, after a moment of jostling the lock, untangled the chain and opened the gate. “You do realize this is against the law, right?”

“Well,” Daryl said, climbing back into the truck and turning the radio down, “if the cops show, maybe Rick’ll cut us a break since you grabbed his ass.”

She lightly elbowed him before laying her head on his shoulder. He pulled close to the shore and killed the headlights, then opened his door and lit a cigarette. He left the radio on low, some upbeat country song humming in the speakers.

“I’ll pay you five bucks to dance with me,” she said, peering up at him.

He snorted. “Hell naw.”

“Ten bucks.” She sat up, rising to the challenge. “Twenty bucks. Twenty bucks and a blowjob.”

“Woman, I ain’t succumbing to your bribery.”

The song on the radio switched to a slow, twangy blues number. She cranked the volume dial. “The DJ thinks you should dance with me,” she said with a grin. She opened the door and slid out of the truck, circling around to his side.

With a longsuffering sigh, he allowed her to tug him out of the truck. He took one more drag of his cigarette before tossing it, and she draped an arm over his shoulder, fingertips stroking the back of his neck.

“I ain’t no good at this,” he said, sliding his hands around her hips.

“I don’t care,” she replied. “Just hold me close. That’s all I want.”

He drew her to him, closing his arms around her as she swayed to the music. He petted her hair, brushing a lock from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. He took her chin between thumb and forefinger, his touch feather-light, and lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was as slow and languid as the song floating in the night air around them.

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips. He pulled back slowly, and she smiled.

“I…” He stepped away, putting a bit of distance between them. “The hell you say something like that for?”

“No need to look like I just stuck you with a shiv. You don’t have to say it back or anything. I just figured I should let you know, case you ever started wondering.”

He nodded, chewing the inside of his lip. “A’ight.”

Liv’s phone started ringing, and she reached past him into the truck, turning off the radio as she answered. “Yeah?”

“You gotta get here,” Scotty said. “Half the damn town’s in here tonight. Apparently just because they weren’t invited to the wedding doesn’t mean they couldn’t come to the after-party. Get here now.”

“You could say please, ya know,” she grumbled, sighing. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Don’t have a stroke.” She turned to Daryl. “Scotty’s overrun. Needs me at work.”

“A’ight,” he said again. He crawled in the truck after her.

“Where’s your bike, by the way?”

“At your house. Didn’t have nowhere else to put it ‘til I find a new place. D’you mind?”

“Nah. You…if you want, you can stay at the house a while.”

“Best to get my own place. Just not in the Hollow. Don’t figure the landlord’ll be too quick to let me rent there again.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. He was virtually silent all the way back to town, and Liv was going nuts by the time they pulled up in front of the tavern. When he left the engine running and made no move to get out, she looked at him. “You not coming in?”

“Nah. I got some stuff t’take care of.”

“Oh. Okay.” She bit her lip. “Look, I didn’t freak you out earlier, right? I mean, you’re not gonna rabbit on me, are you?”

The corner of his mouth ticked upward. “Naw.”

“Okay.” She climbed out of the truck and had nearly made it to the back door of the tavern when she heard his door squeak open.

“Hey.”

She turned to him, head cocked in question.

“What you said earlier…ain’t nobody ever said that to me before. Gonna take a minute t’get my head around.” He leaned against the truck, idly picking at a chip in the paint. “We good though?”

Liv smiled and walked back to him, twining her arms around his neck and rising on tiptoes to kiss him long and hard. His arms encircled her, keeping her close, as if she’d blow away on the night breeze that washed over them. She broke the kiss and laid her cheek against his shoulder.

“Yes, Daryl. We’re good.” She straightened with an impish grin, jerking her head toward that blessed dark corner of the building where everything had started. “Unless we wanna be bad.”

He flashed a full smile and let her tug him toward the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


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